The Wrong Side
by CSINYMinute
Summary: Reposted by demand! Don Flack is about to find out about a secret from his father's past and another lab employee's life is about to be turned upside down...
1. Chapter 1

**Wrong Side?**

**Chapter One – An Unexpected Result**

**Sometimes I think of taking a different tactic with the characters and I hope you enjoy this little trip down into yet another AU.**

**Thanks very much to Brown-Eyed Girl, for letting me borrow Sam Ross for this and for looking it all over and making sure she's totally in character!**

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing relating to CBS. Nada. Zilch. **

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Malloy's Bar was not somewhere he usually frequented, although it _was_ a cop bar. Unlike Sullivan's, where the younger crowd met for a drink after work, to celebrate team or personal success, to toast colleagues lost in the line of duty or simply to drown your sorrows after a real bad day on the beat. No, Malloy's was an old-school cop bar, one where his father had his own stool by the bar.

Jimmy, the owner, a first generation Irishman, was a tough guy who kept an old baseball bat under the bar and an unloaded shotgun over the bottles of liquor behind it. No-one messed with Jimmy Malloy. Lots of rumors persisted about Jimmy's past and why he had emigrated, but no-one ever asked him about it to his face. He was a grizzled old man, his flaming red hair now dimmed with time and a pair of piercing hazel eyes. Still, thought the blue-eyed detective, he was real popular with the old-timers and he had a reputation for settling any trouble at his bar the old-fashioned way, usually backed up by several off-duty and the odd on-duty uniforms and detectives. Certainly nothing that ever happened there ever got into the Watch Commander's ledger or onto the system. Jimmy Malloy was well-respected.

Which was why, thought Don, getting a call was so unusual. Well, unusual until he walked in and saw the body of a young, disheveled man lying on the floor, clearly shot. He caught sight of a pair of familiar blue eyes, talking to Jimmy, as he walked over.

_Shit_, he thought. Just what he needed.

"Dad," he acknowledged, "How ya doin'?"

"Good, Junior, good," the older man replied.

"What happened here Jimmy?" asked Don, getting his pocketbook out of the pocket of his overcoat.

"That piece of crap walked in off the street," said the old man standing beside Don's father, "Pulls out a piece, demands all the cash then the stupid little fucker gets scared when one of the guys tries to talk him down," he gestured at paramedics taking care of another off-duty cop Don vaguely recognized.

"Then the funniest thing happens," continued Jimmy, "Stupid idiot slips on some spillage, cracks his head on the bar and by the time we get to him, he's expired," the older man chuckled, "That's what happens when you mess with the luck of the Irish!"

"Is that the line I'm going to get from everyone in here?" asked Don, cursing himself as the words were barely out of his mouth.

"Junior!" chastised his father, smacking his son upside the head, causing a few sniggers from the other NYPD and CSI personnel in the bar, "We all saw what happened and autopsy and the evidence will back him up."

Don rubbed the back of his head, glaring at his father.

It was just his luck he and not Scagnetti or one of the other detectives on duty had been assigned this case.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

The dark-haired girl opened her mouth as Danny Messer took the swab. She wasn't surprised they'd asked from DNA samples from all the staff. From what she knew, it was routine, to exclude them from suspicion. The blond CSI grinned at her as he swept the cotton bud around the inside of her cheek, before pulling it out and popping it into an evidence bag.

"Name?" asked Danny.

"Anna Malloy," replied the girl in a soft Irish lilt, smiling, "I'm Jimmy's grand-niece."

"Address?" asked Danny. The girl raised her eyebrows. "Routine," Danny said, a little exasperated.

"I live above the bar," said Anna, "With Jimmy and his wife."

"How long you been here in New York?" asked Danny.

"Do you want my vital statistics too?" asked Anna sarcastically. Danny threw his hands up.

"Look," he said, "I gotta ask these things, OK? You're obviously not from here."

Anna relented. She showed him her Green Card, pulled from the back pocket of her jeans.

"I'm here legally," she said, "Jimmy sponsored me, as he's my uncle, but my Dad's a New Yorker. I've emigrated."

"Fair enough," said Danny, "And for the record, I'm married."

"Fair enough," said Anna, "Sorry for being so suspicious, it's just, working in a bar _everyone_ hits on you sooner or later."

Danny chuckled and labeled the DNA sample.

"Yeah," he agreed, "I bet they do!"

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Don watched the exchange from across the bar. He didn't think Danny was the type to cheat, but the girl had been a little defensive from the get-go. Well, reasoned Don, barmaids tended to take the "back off buddy" attitude from the get-go, unless you were particularly hot. Not, now he was happily married to a little spit-fire of his own, he ever broke out his game on them anymore. But once upon a time, he thought, once upon a time it had been a different story on a Friday night for him and one D. Messer esquire.

He took a look at the pretty girl as she chatted with Danny and glared at the winks and other attention she was getting from the younger cops, arms folded, leaning against the bar. She looked typically Irish. She had glossy dark hair, glinting black in the light, pale ivory skin, with a hint of pink in her lips and cheeks. She was slim built, about average height, maybe a little shorter than Stella. About his sister Mel's height he thought. She was dressed in a green Old Time Hockey t-shirt with the Rangers logo printed on it and blue jeans that clung to her lower body. Not that he was interested. Really, he wasn't. He had enough trouble of that kind waiting for him at home, he thought, grinning to himself. Red track shoes completed the picture. She reminded him of someone. He couldn't place a finger on it.

Danny swaggered back over to him, grinning and shaking his head.

"Jimmy's niece is something," he said, "Would ya believe she's older than you Flack?"

Don was surprised. She sure didn't look old enough to order behind the bar, let alone have turned thirty. He slapped his pocketbook against his thigh.

"Call me when you get your results?" he said.

"You know it," said Danny, busying himself with dusting for prints from a glass someone had brought him.

Don said his goodbyes, nodding at his father and walked to the door, into the daylight, squinting slightly at the difference between the gloomy bar.

He didn't notice the exchange of worried glances between men still in the bar.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Adam Ross, processing the DNA swabs, was surprised when one of the samples he'd been given for exclusion from the case, which had now, after autopsy, concluded the death of the perp at the bar _was_, in fact, an accident. Mind you, the hit in CODIS was equally unexpected. Maybe Jimmy, or one of his staff, was linked with something, he thought.

The result wasn't quite what he expected.

One of the samples was a _partial_ match to someone in the system. A familiar link.

At first, he thought, it wasn't surprising. After all, cops drank in Malloy's.

But he decided to look at the DNA results more closely. Right before the database churned out a _second_ match. And then a third.

Four family members. Looking at the results, he was prepared to bet that one of them at least knew nothing about this.

Running his fingers through his messy hair, Adam Ross wondered how just in hell he was going to break this particular news.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

**Hahahahaha – what's gonna happen next I hear you say? Wait and see, friends, wait and see.**

**Thanks for all support to Tinks, Poppy, Sam, Heidi and all the usual suspects. R&R, people and I promise to keep the smut out of this one!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – Who the **_**what…?**_

**Yeah, I know. Cliffie heaven. Anyone guessed yet (Tinks, I know you know…)?**

**Disclaimer: CBS broadcast it, I wish I worked for it, sadly, I own nothing.**

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

The irritating thing about Adam's nervousness, thought Mac, was his sudden extreme inability to form sentences when he was nervous. Like now.

His top lab rat stood in front of him, paper in hands that were shaking.

"I mean," said Adam, "After the, well, you said, boss, and the last time, but, I don't know…"

The younger man tailed off, running his hand through his messy hair, his shirt buttoned up wrong over his jeans, half hanging out.

"Adam," said Mac, "Just take it slow, one word at a time."

Adam Ross took a deep breath. He handed Mac the DNA results.

"I need your advice boss," he said, "About these results."

Mac looked at the paper; four familial results. Not uncommon. He handed the paper back to Adam.

"Why would you need my advice Adam?" said Mac, "It seems fairly obvious that you have four familial DNA results there. Is it to do with an old case? Did you get a hit from people in the department? What's wrong?"

"That case at Malloy's, the one that the MEs ruled an accident, well I was processing DNA to rule out people who were there and I got an unexpected result. I got a familial hit to someone in CODIS. Then I got two more," said Adam.

"That's not unusual in New York City, Adam," said Mac, smiling.

"No," said Adam, a nervous smile on his face, "But this is. I ran it three times Mac, each time the same result. The DNA in two cases, well, they're brother and sister and the third is their father. Father and son worked and work for the department. The other, well, she doesn't but she's known to the department."

Mac was suddenly all attention.

"The fourth?" he asked.

"That's where it gets tricky and that's why I wanted your advice. The fourth appears to be another sibling, with only one parent in common," replied Adam.

Mac took the paper back from Adam, checked the names he had only glanced at before and swore.

"Mac," he said, "Did you know _anything_ about this? Do you think he knows?"

Mac shook his head.

"He's always been private," he replied, "But I doubt he even suspects this."

"What am I going to do?" asked Adam, suddenly in a bit of a panic, "I mean, I know this, it affects someone, hell _family_ I know."

Mac came forward and guided the man into the leather sofa behind him. Adam put his head in his hands.

"Adam," he said, "I really don't know how, but you _are_ going to have to tell him about this."

Adam let out the breath he'd been holding out of sheer nerves. He looked up at Mac.

"How the hell do you tell someone he has another sister?" he asked, "And that in order for that sister to exist his dad was playing away from home?"

For once Mac had no reply.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

The two men sat across from each other in the bar staring at each other. The drinks, untouched, sat by their hands.

"We knew it might happen one day," said the faded red-head, "We knew they would probably come across one another in one shape or form."

The other man sighed.

"I know," he replied, "But that doesn't make this any easier."

He picked up his glass and took a slug of the whisky, grimacing as the taste burned the back of his throat.

"How do I tell my son the truth? How do I tell him about the older sister he never knew he had? He's a smart boy. He's gonna figure it _all_ out." He looked at the man sat across from him, a question in his eyes.

"Anna knows," he confirmed, "She guessed the second he came through the doors." Jimmy shook his head, "That one takes after her father, no getting anything past her. Been like that since she was a little girl."

"How'd she take it?"

"A little surprised. I think she'd always assumed you'd keep both parts of your life separate to be honest and she was OK with that. She still is, to an extent," he leaned towards the other man, "But she's only got me and her aunt now, boyo, and we're not young. Anna needs to know her family, her brother and his family, her sister and they need to know her. None of them are kids any more."

"I know."

The two men finished their drinks in silence.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Adam Ross did not often appear in the precinct, the detective mused. He was like a startled animal, his glance darting around the room every time someone scraped a chair off the floor or someone shouted. Mind you, thought the detective, he seemed even more nervous than usual. Something had really rattled his cage.

"Adam," he said. Adam didn't hear him. "_Adam!"_ he said again, more loudly, "Sit the fuck down before you wear out the floor."

Adam sat.

"What the hell is bugging you?" he asked, "You never come down here. Something unusual with the case?"

Adam looked at his brother-in-law, scared as hell of what his reaction was going to be to the news contained in the now stained piece of paper he held in his hands.

"I, er, well, um, Mac…" he stammered nervously. The detective sighed and just _looked_ at the lab tech. Adam cleared his throat.

"Mac thought it best I bring this straight to you, I mean, seeing as we're, well…"

"Ross," said the detective irritably, "I am fully aware of the fact that you and I are family, although how, as I tell your sister almost every day, you and she have any DNA in common I will never know. What is wrong?"

Adam slid the paper across the desk towards him.

"We got a hit in CODIS. Familial hit. Not your dad."

The detective sighed.

"What the fuck has Mel been up to now?" he asked.

Adam shook his head. "Not Mel," he said. The detective looked at him hard.

"My brother?" he said.

Adam shook his head again and the detective sighed. He leaned across the desk towards Adam, who shrank back a little from the glare in his eyes.

"Adam" he said with no small amount of exasperation, "I am not going to play twenty fucking questions with you on this. I do not have all day to wait for you to tell me which of my cousins or aunts or uncles has gone and done something really stupid to land a hit in the database. Who was it?"

Adam looked his brother-in-law straight between the eyes.

"It's not any of them," he said, "It's your _other_ sister," he corrected himself, "Your half-sister. She's not in trouble. It came up while we were ruling her out of a case."

A look of shock, followed by a look of anger came across his face.

"You tell anyone about this?" he asked roughly, "Other than Mac?"

"Nope," Adam shook his head. The detective looked down at the piece of paper and saw the names on it. The surprising sudden addition to the family. And swore, causing several glances from other colleagues in the room towards him.

The blue eyes read the name once more.

And Don Flack knew he had to speak to his father. Senior had a whole lot of explaining to do.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

**OK, so what do you think? Should I keep this going? You like?**

**R&R people, you know it makes me happy!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – Hey Sister, go sister…..**

**Disclaimer: If I owned any of CSI:NY I would be one happy chica, but sadly I don't so…**

**Big thanks to everyone who has reviewed and everyone who has stopped by. Hope you're enjoying this. Unfortunately RL is about to catch up with me big time and I'll be on hiatus for a bit, just to warn you now…**

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

A few of the old-timers looked up and followed the younger man's progress into the bar.

Jimmy noticed him coming in from the back, where he was shooting some pool and came through to meet him.

"Donnie," he said, acknowledging him.

"Is he still here?" asked Don, a little roughly.

"No, he left about an hour ago. Said he had to get back to your ma. Told me he was going to tell her."

Jimmy Malloy didn't need to elaborate on that. Both of them knew that Donald Flack senior, ex-cop, flawed father of three, _four_, sometimes appalling husband was probably right now confessing to his wife about the existence of his eldest daughter, born right before Don, about a year or so after their eldest son had been born. Not a conversation any man in his right mind would relish. Especially as Patricia Flack had one hell of a temper and an equally good right hook when the occasion called for it.

Don winced. His ma was going to raise the roof. Abso-fucking-lutely.

He glanced over at the bar to where the brunette was eyeing him warily, drying a pint glass off with a bar towel. Jimmy jerked his head at her and she came to the end of the bar, lifting the wooden hinged edge that kept undesirables, non-staff and lecherous customers away from them, snagging a couple of shot glasses and a bottle of JD on her way.

Don sat down heavily at one of the wooden tables and watched her progress. He knew who she reminded him of now. She reminded him of Mel, which wasn't surprising really. He guessed she must look quite a lot like her mother, but the look in her eyes, the set jaw, the glint in her eyes, along with that hair? All Flack. As she got to the table, the dumped the glasses down onto the wood with a clatter and with the hand that didn't hold the bottle, reached up and pulled the elastic band holding her hair back from her head, shaking all that long, dark hair loose. Hair just Mel's, only slightly wavy, like their father's, before it went gray. She pulled the cork closing the bottle of Jack out of the top of it with her teeth then spat it across the floor, before pouring them both a large measure of the brown liquor. Jimmy cleared his throat noisily. Anna lifted the finger in his general direction before she dumped the bottle on the table and sat herself down on the wooden chair opposite his.

She took a sip from her glass and he did the same. They sat there watching each other, a pair of hazel eyes warily regarding a pair of blue ones. They were silent for a while.

"Did you know?" he asked.

"About DD or about you?" she replied.

"DD?"

"Daddy Don."

"Right. But did you know?"

Anna sighed.

"I met him properly when I was about ten years old," said Anna, "And he told me that I had two brothers and a sister. He didn't say anything else though."

"You met him," Don said slowly, "When you were ten? But he didn't say anything, to any of us!"

"You need to talk to him about that," said Anna, taking another sip from her glass, "I didn't raise the subject because I had my mother and I had my home and that was all right."

"And now?" he asked, leaning forwards slightly.

"Well, if that moron hadn't slipped, fallen, knocked himself on the head and shot himself you and I would never have met, now would we?" she said, making the question sound like a statement.

And he had to agree with her logic.

To onlookers, they looked like two people sharing a drink, both leaning back slightly in their chairs. Some might have pegged them as the siblings they had so recently found out they were. No-one bothered them. Jimmy watched them from behind the bar. He knew this was going to happen sooner or later.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

After about an hour of stilted questions and no few shots of Jack, the conversation was starting to flow a bit more merrily. Anna had divulged that Jimmy and his wife were her only living relatives, now her mother and grand-parents had passed away. Her father and Jimmy had convinced her to move to New York, away from Carrigaline, outside Cork, where she had grown up, albeit spending her summers in New York with Jimmy.

For his part, Don had talked about growing up in Queens, spending time at the YMCA, getting coached, something he now gave back to the community himself, now he was a grown man. He'd watched Anna smile a broad grin at that. Their father's smile. The one he shared. He told her about his wife, five months pregnant with their son, a Brooklyn girl born and raised, who had come into his life, via Phoenix, Arizona, after taking a job with the Crime Lab, alongside her brother and now his brother-in-law, Adam. He grinned as he described the curvy, sassy, occasionally foul-mouthed woman he'd married, with her brown hair, golden eyes and collection of tattoos. He left out the private stuff, allowing himself a small grin as certain images crossed his mind. Like just where their son was conceived.

He established that Anna was born in June 1977, making her only six months older than him. Old enough, she'd said, taking a sip. When he'd asked old enough for what, she'd leaned forward, smacked him upside the head and told him old enough to kick his ass. Flack had grinned, she'd grinned and they'd both realized they'd broken some sort of ice in their relationship. From behind the bar, Jimmy had let go of the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and heaved a sigh of relief.

After that, they'd mostly chatted about sports, of all things.

"Football or soccer," he asked.

"Rugby's better, but if I had to choose," said Anna, "I'd pick soccer. Although we call it _football_ in Europe."

"Favorite team?" he asked.

"Glasgow Celtic," replied Anna, swigging back another mouthful of Jack, "The Irish girl's team of choice."

"Same here," he said, raising his glass to her in a silent salute to her good taste.

"No way!" she exclaimed, "No _way_ do we support the same team!" she laughed.

"I take it you like them because they're a great team," said Don, taking a mouthful of his drink. Anna snorted.

"Don't be stupid!" she replied, "What teenage girl supports a team because of their skill with the ball. No," she sighed, putting her hands over her heart and looking skyward, hamming it up, "I was madly in love with their goal-keeper, one Packy Bonner."

Don laughed outright, she was funny as hell. Then she lifted her eyebrows and grinned, a look he recognized himself as doing.

"Then it was all about the damn Swede, one Henrik Larsson," she sighed theatrically, "And his trademark blond dreadlocks. Oh we all cried when he chopped them off."

Don's shoulder shook with laughter at the way she performed.

Inevitably, given what she was wearing, the subject turned to hockey.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Anna was sitting in the chair, one leg folded under her, sipping from a bottle of Bud her uncle had sent over.

"Of _course_ I know about hockey!" she had said, with no little amount of sarcasm to his enquiry, "I am our father's daughter. Do you seriously think he wouldn't have mentioned it within about, oh, five minutes of introducing himself?"

Which was a fair point, Don thought given his own father had had him on skates at the Rockerfeller Center as soon as he could walk.

"Yeah," she continued, "I was a Bruins supporter."

Don spat out his beer. Jimmy, behind the bar, putting away some bottles, laughed out loud.

"Don't worry Donnie," he called, "We beat it out of her already!"

"You know Jimmy," she called back, "I haven't made up my mind _which_ New York team I'm gonna support, or even if I'll stay this side of the river. That Marty Brodeur, who keeps for the Devils, is one cute hottie."

Don smirked as she turned back to face him. This one had a smart mouth too, just like the rest of the family.

"So," he asked, "When did you start coming to New York."

"When I was about eight," she replied, "That was the first time I met DD, he took me to Coney Island with some kids. That was before he told me who he was. There was this really obnoxious boy about my age. I remember he kept pulling my bunches in the car all the way there. So when we got there, to the fairground, I pushed him over on the boardwalk and he split his head open, right at the hairline. We came right back after that and I never got to go on the rollercoaster. Actually," she confessed, looking a little guilty, "I felt a little mean, so his sister and her friend started bawling about not getting their ice-cream. And 'cause it must have hurt him really."

Flack grinned and pushed his short hair back a little to show her the thin, faint white scar on his hair-line. Anna put her hand over her mouth.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed, "That was _you?"_

"I was an obnoxious little shit back then, so Dad tells me," he affirmed.

The two burst out laughing again. Don commented that her eyes had been blue back then and she confirmed that was true; unusually, they'd gone hazel when she was nine years old, which no-one had turned an eye at in her family. The Malloys all had hazel eyes.

Anna glanced down at his left hand, to where his right kept twisting the wedding band around his fourth finger. It had gotten late as they'd talked, getting to know each other.

"Uh Don?" she asked.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Did you call your wife and tell her you'd be late? It's after nine now. We've been talking for hours."

Don went white and glanced at his watch. Anna was right, it was late and he had one very pregnant, very hormonal wife waiting for him at home. One who knew his schedule better than her collection of Hello Kitty merchandise.

Anna stood in one fluid movement, grabbing the empty bottle of Jack, the glasses and the few bottles of beer from the table. She dumped them on the bar and came back over to him.

"About the hockey team," he said, gesturing at her shirt.

"What about it?" she replied.

"If you're not going to support the Rangers, should you be wearing that shirt?"

Anna regarded him coolly with the exact same look he recognized from his entire family. Evil and mischievous. She raised an eyebrow and grabbed the hem of her shirt, making a move as though she was going to drag the thing off right then and there in the bar, which had suddenly gone really, really quiet. Until one loud Irish voice broke into the silence.

"Annemarie Malloy!" bellowed Jimmy, "Don't you _dare_ take your shirt off in this bar!"

Anna leaned forward and kissed her brother on the cheek before sauntering over to the door, behind which was the stairs leading to her uncle's apartment. As she reached it, she stuck her tongue out at her uncle and glared at Don, before pulling the shirt over her head in one swift movement, as she danced through the door, dangling it out of the door before dropping it. Don laughed. It was exactly like something Mel would do.

"Bloody girl," Jimmy said, shaking his head wearily, "Like a red rag to a bull; tell her not to do something and she goes right ahead and does it, just like some other people I know!"

His hazel eyes looked straight at Don, piercingly.

"Who?" he said, pretending innocence, "_Me?"_

Jimmy snorted.

"You and every other damn Flack I've ever had the misfortune to know!" he replied.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

**That's is for this chapter – I was going to bring Sammy in, but it got over-long. Next time!**

**Leave a review on the way out, ta!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – Keeping him from the cold**

**A very big shout out to Tinks for this, first and foremost, cos if it wasn't for her half this story would be missing. And, gee, thanks, babe, for pimping me out. I think LOL.**

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, CBS/Alliance do…**

**I am also fully aware that some people are waiting for me to write Sammie, I really do. I just hope I do her justice!**

**And thanks to Madison Bellows, for spotting the obvious mistake between Chapters one and two – I did **_**wonder**_** if anyone would **_**actually**_** notice LOL!**

_**The nominations forum for the 2009 CSI:NY Fan Fiction awards are now open. Take a click over to Shabbers The Corrupter's profile page, where you will be able to access her forum direct and nominate **__**your**__** favorite stories, authors, OCs and so many, many more!**_ (Shabbers, will that do LOL?)

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Don Flack knew, before his key even turned in the lock of the door to their apartment that he was in trouble.

He knew he should have called Sammie, he knew it. He should have called her and told her what had happened, that he had just found out he had a sister he'd never known about. That he'd gone to find his Dad, the architect of all this hassle, a man Sammie got along with like a house on fire, instead finding and starting the process of getting to know his older sister over several drinks. Yeah, Don thought running his hand through his hair, he should have called her first.

Better yet, he should have come home straight away and spoken to her about the whole thing _before_ heading straight out to Malloy's, like a bat outta hell.

He should have thought about how she would react too, wincing a little at what her reaction was going to be. Yeah, he had a pretty good idea of what was coming.

He turned the key in the lock and walked into the small, two bed apartment they shared in lower Manhattan.

"Baby?" he called.

Silence.

He walked through to their small living room, hearing the sound of the TV switched on.

There he found his tiny bride, all barely five foot of her, curled up in one of his oversized NYPD t-shirts, hair in little girl pigtails, her feet crossed under her. She wore no make-up, looking far younger than her 33 years, a dusting of freckles across her nose. She had a plate of frozen mini Goodfella's pizzas on one side of her and marshmallow and – yeah, there it was – caramel ice-cream syrup in one of those god-awful china double serving dishes one of his or her mother's friends had given them as a beautiful-but-useless wedding present. From the look of her, those golden eyes were focused on a rerun of _Charmed_, which was playing on CBS or another of the network channels. Don knew better. He stepped over to the couch, leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

And winced, when he saw that the frozen pizzas beside her, were in fact, still frozen. Sammie and her damn cravings, he thought.

"Adam called," she said, in a voice that was a little too high, "Said he needed to talk to you about Anna again."

_Uh-oh_, thought Don. Now he knew he had to explain this, but how the hell was he going to do this now his brother-in-law had inadvertently managed to let the cat out of the bag. And, knowing his little spit-fire Brooklyn girl that he did, she'd jumped to the wrong conclusion.

He crouched down in front of her and took her hands in his. She looked at him coolly, focusing those golden eyes on his blue ones.

"Baby," he said, "I got something I need to talk to you about, but it's hard and I don't know how to start."

She raised an eyebrow, not saying a word. _Damn_, thought Don, this was going to be harder than he thought.

"Say," he said, "_Hypothetically_, there was this guy who was married, with a kid on the way and he found out there was this other girl who he'd been seeing on the side and…"

He saw the anger flare in those golden eyes and knew he was in trouble.

"And," she bit out angrily, "_Hypothetically_, he'd decided he was fed up with the ball and shackle and wanted the girl instead?" she finished for him.

"Uh, no honey," he said, cursing Adam mentally for the ideas he'd given his sister, "It's not what you think?"

"_Who is Anna?"_ asked Sam, in a very low, very quiet voice, glaring at Don, ripping her hands out of his.

_Shit_, thought Don, _this was __**not**__ going well at all._

"How long have you been seeing her," she said, her voice rising in anger, "And how the hell does my _brother_ know all about her? Have you been discussing this with him? Your _girlfriend? _ With my _brother?"_

Color had risen in her face. Oh Sammie was pissed, no doubt about it, he thought. He really, really should have come home or called her earlier, because, hormonal as she was and occasionally unstable at the best of times she had, typically, got the wrong end of the stick.

Those golden eyes glittered and then two tiny little hands pushed him, hard. Caught off balance, Don fell backwards into the coffee table. The next thing he knew, a cold hard round thing had hit him in the forehead, causing a tiny amount of pain. Then it landed, slightly melting sauce side down onto his striped shirt, leaving a trail of tomato pizza sauce as gravity took its toll and the thing slid towards his pants. Don gingerly picked the offensive item off his shirt, right before he spotted something flying through the air and…

He ducked. As the bowl that had formerly contained marshmallows and caramel syrup narrowly missed his head, instead hitting the wall behind him, shattering into a few pieces. An irate Sam was now on her feet, advancing towards him. Don had to admit it; he was _slightly_ scared.

Actually, make that absolutely fucking terrified for his life. And quite possibly his manhood as well. Sammy was brandishing the remote control, shaking it like it was Luke Skywalker's light saber. Hair was escaping from her cute plaits, which swung from side to side and there were two spots of pink, making her look like a furious schoolgirl, coloring in her cheeks. The eyes blazed with fury.

"You brought Adam into it," she yelled, advancing with about as much grace as a penguin, due to her pregnancy, "Why couldn't you leave him out of your fucking around with his sister! Me! I mean," she sputtered, "_Peanut!_"

"I'm pregnant!" she continued to yell, "You knocked me up with your demon spawn, who doesn't give me a moment's piece from dawn till dusk and you're off _polishing your service weapon_ with some floozy you picked up out drinking with Messer!"

Don was torn between laughing outright and shaking her – gently - till she saw sense. He managed to grab a cushion, which he held up in front of him to ward off his irate wife. Sam stopped in front of him in disgust and suddenly swooped. Don flinched, marginally relieved when he realized she'd only grabbed the cordless phone.

"I'm going to shred every single one of your damn ties!" she hissed, before stalking off to the bedroom as gracefully as she could waddle while being five months pregnant with the tall detective's son.

Momentarily stunned by her outburst, but not entirely surprised, given the sarcasm-laden emotional outbursts that had peppered their home since she'd gotten pregnant and turned into the raving, hormonal bitch from hell, it took Don a couple of minutes to stagger to his feet and head after his wife, down the narrow corridor to their bedroom.

Getting to the door too late to stop her from closing it in his face. And too slow to open it, as he heard from the click of the lock turning, shutting him out.

"Sammy," he said, trying the handle of the door to check if it was really locked, "Baby, open the door, I gotta talk to you."

Silence.

"Baby," he said more forcefully, "Don't make me kick the door down. I kind of think we're going to need that security deposit back when we move to a bigger place."

"Don't you dare!" came the outraged shout from behind the door, "Just leave me alone! Why don't you go back over to _Anna's_ place for some more hot sex!"

Don muttered several profanities under his breath, eyes looking towards the ceiling.

"Baby," he said, in a softer tone, "Will you tell me what Adam said to you?"

Not, he thought, that he wasn't going to kill Adam the next time he saw him for getting him into this level of shit with Sammy.

The voice from behind the door, sounding really upset finally answered him.

"He asked if you were here. I said you weren't. He said you must have gone to speak to Anna and he told me to tell you to call him and tell him how it went."

Christ, he thought, that was one hell of a Ross trait – the whole going verbal postal whenever they were upset.

"Sweetheart," he said soothingly, his lips next to the keyhole, "It really isn't what you think."

For one second he thought he'd convinced her. Next thing he knew, he was wincing as a loud shout from the other side made him realize he hadn't.

"BULLSHIT!" she roared, in the manner of her step-father, The Sarge.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Don sighed, sitting against the wall outside his bedroom. He knew the sensible thing to do would be to retreat to the couch, make himself comfortable for, oh the next century, grab a beer and watch the sports highlights and he had been about to do that when he'd heard the sound of Sam sobbing her heart out in their bedroom. So he'd sat outside and waited for her to calm down. And waited.

An hour later, he was still there, getting cramp in his legs from being hunched into a seriously uncomfortable position in the hall.

His cell rang. He bit off a sigh of relief as he realized it was Adam ringing him back after the half dozen or so messages he had left on his answer service. He bit off Adam's greeting with an,

"Adam, what the fuck did you say to your sister?" he said. Sam was always Adam's sister when she let the she-bitch out.

"Nothing!" said Adam defensively, "I just asked her to get you to call me, in case you wanted to talk or something. I mean, I know you were going to go find your Dad and I thought…"

"You thought what?" bit off Don, slightly savagely.

"That you might, I dunno, need some support or something," said Adam, "I mean, we're family and all and it was a pretty big freaking bomb that got dropped on you today, oh," he said, realizing what he had said, "Uh Don, err, I didn't mean it, I, uh…"

"Adam," said Don slowly, "That's a real nice thought, it is, but unfortunately I'm going to kill you when I find you and I'm going to get Messer to help me dispose of the body."

"Do you want me to come over? To explain to Sammy?" started Adam.

"Are you fucking insane?" said Don, "After the level of shit you've already got me into? Buddy I do _not_ need to be any deeper into this grave you've already dug me. Got that?"

Adam affirmed and apologized again. Don sighed.

"It's OK," he said finally, "It's not your fault your sister's a she-bitch and you have this real bad tendency to just totally fuck things up when you open your mouth. I'll call ya if I need ya alright?"

Don ended the call and leaned his head back against the wall, sighing heavily.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

It was only about thirty seconds before his cell rang again. Don groaned inwardly as he spotted the name flash up on the screen.

"Hey Messer," he said.

Danny chuckled on the other end of the phone.

"What the hell did you do to Brooklyn?" he asked, "Cos I gotta tell you, Montana's pacing the room here, threatening you all manner of bodily harm for upsetting her home girl."

"Figures," said Don, sighing wearily, "What do you know?"

"Only that apparently you're about to leave your pregnant wife for some hottie and you've been asking Adam for advice about how to do the deed," laughed Danny, "Which is why, as soon as I heard _that_ I knew this all had to be some mistake. What the fuck is going on?"

"Bub," replied Don, "It's really, really fucked up and I can't tell you about it yet, until I've spoken to my Dad. Seriously, though, do you really think I would cheat on Sammy?"

"No I don't," said Danny, "Seeing as she's the only woman who's ever put up with you long enough to get chained to the kitchen, barefoot, pregnant and all."

Don laughed.

"If you value your life Messer, do not let her hear you say that!" he said.

"Do you want us to come over?" Danny asked, "Seriously Flack, I mean I can't vouch that Linds won't try to do you an injury or something, but do you want her and me to come try and talk Sam outta this?"

Don considered this for a minute.

"No Danny," he said finally, "I need to try and sort this one out by myself. But thanks. I'll tell you what the hell's going on as soon as I can. Thanks Bub."

"A 'right," said Danny, "I'll speak to Linds, but call us if you need anything."

"I will, thanks," Don finished, ending the call.

He was still wondering how to get Sam to come out of the bedroom to talk to him when his cell rang again, some god-awful cheesy, tinny Irish ringtone that Mel had downloaded onto his phone last time they were all at their folks house for dinner.

_Shit_, he thought. Now his mother too.

"Hey Ma," he said, waiting for the full force of the storm to hit.

And was shocked as hell when she didn't let off with a mouthful of abuse about his father.

"Donnie," she said, "I take it you know?"

"Yeah Ma," he replied, "Long and boring story as to how, but I'm now dealing with the fall-out. You sound like you're dealing pretty good," he said cautiously.

Patricia Flack sighed.

"Well at first I did maybe lose my temper a little," she said, _which was probably the understatement of the century_, Don thought, hoping his father wasn't too badly injured.

"And I may have raised my voice a little," she continued, _which meant she'd probably terrified the neighborhood and the cops had been called to the house_, "But your father and I have had a good long talk about it. You can't change the past, she's here now and it's not her fault."

_Who are you and what did you do with my mother_, thought Don, speechless. Either age or impending grandparent-hood had _really _mellowed her.

"In fact," she said, "I told your father to invite her, Jimmy and his wife over so we can all get to know them properly. They're family now. She's your sister, Donnie."

"I know Ma," he said heavily, "I went looking for Dad and I met her. We had a few drinks and I got home a little late."

"Please tell me you called your wife and told her what was going on," said his mother.

Don didn't say anything.

"Donnie!" she reproached, "Is she very upset?"

"Well, Ma, she thinks, thanks to her brother calling and managing to totally fuck things up, that I'm having an affair and leaving her and the baby for her, so yeah, everything's great!"

"Wash that mouth out!" said Patricia Flack sharply, "Donnie, how long have you been sitting outside that locked door?"

"An hour," he admitted.

"You tried talking to her?" his mother asked.

"A lot," he agreed, "She won't talk to me."

"Donald Flack Junior," said his mother in the tone she used to use when he was a kid and in big trouble, "Aside from the fact you have some _major_ foot kissing to do for being late home and not calling first, you are going to knock on that door, put Sammy on the phone and go wait on the couch."

Don started to say that this was not a good idea, but even he knew better than to argue with her, even if his mother was all the way over in Queens. He knocked on their bedroom door, told Sam his mother wanted to speak to her and then placed the cell on the floor, in the middle of the doorway. Then backed away, just like a good little mommy's boy.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

He heard the door open and then close again softly. He waited patiently, loosening the tie around his neck and shrugging off his suit jacket.

After about ten minutes, he looked up to see his wife standing in the doorway, face still tear-stained, but looking a bit sheepish. And not entirely unsexy, seeing as she appeared to be wearing little more than his faded t-shirt and her curves were accentuated by the growing life inside her. His son. The baby they'd made.

He stood up, walked over to her and pulled her into his arms, resting his head atop hers. She snaked her arms around his waist and snuggled into him. He picked her up, bodily, and carried her back to the couch, settling her into his lap, putting one big hand over the growing bump, making her skin warm under the shirt.

"Baby," he said, "I love you to distraction, even if you are the most unbelievably stubborn, unreasonable, crazy bitch imaginable. I will never leave you, baby or no baby. I'm having too much fun."

He kissed her softly. She took his face in her hands and regarded him thoughtfully.

"You can be an arrogant, insensitive asshole sometimes, Donnie, you know that?" she countered.

He sighed, resting his forehead against hers.

"I'm sorry I didn't call. I know I should have," he admitted, "I went looking for Dad at Malloy's after Adam showed me the DNA results. I met Anna and we got talking."

Sam said nothing.

"We have thirty years to catch up on Sammy, she's my big sister," he said, "Not that that excuses what I did. You come first babe, even if I don't always show it."

Sam snuggled into his chest, slightly mollified.

"Your mom told me," she said, "I guess Peanut was actually trying to be kind of supportive to you then," she finished, suddenly snickering at the idea of her baby brother actually trying to do that kind of thing for Flack.

"You're going to like Anna," said Flack. Sam looked at him, sarcasm in her eyes.

"You will," he said soothingly, "She's nothing like Mel, more like me and Dad, the perfect ones."

Sam snorted.

"Actually," he continued, "She was the one who reminded me that I had to come home to you, so if it wasn't for my new big sister kicking my ass, I'd still be drinking JD in Malloy's with her, so you should be thankful I'm home and hoping to make it up to you."

Sam pushed herself upright, met his blue eyes with hers and he watched the sly smile start to grow.

"Are you telling me you came home late _on purpose_ to start a fight so we could _make up?"_

Flack grinned and pulled her closer, dropping a kiss onto her lips.

"But that's the best thing about fighting baby," he said, "The way you and me make up!"

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

**And, phew! Flack's life and manhood still intact! Lower Manhattan still standing! Adam still alive… just. It's taken me ages to write this.**

**Special shout outs to DelkosGirl88 (even if she beat me to nominating Tinks LOL), Madison Bellows, wolfeylady, all the usuals and every other newbie who has been kind enough to drop by and let me know what they think of this. I hope you think I'm doing Sam/Tinks justice here!**

**And Spanky, this chapter is also specially for you, I just **_**couldn't resist**_** – well Sam couldn't, it was so something that, literally, just came out of her mouth in the heat of the moment!**

**Please R&R! Thankees!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – We Are Family**

**Disclaimer: I won nothing except Anna Malloy (or Flack); Sam Flack (Ross) belongs to Brown Eyed Girl 75 and is very kindly on loan to me until I seriously screw her character up, then she'll kill me, so she's editing fiercely! As for everyone else, well if you don't know by now that CBS own them…**

**Disclaimer 2: I would just like to briefly mention that for some reason the Muse has taken a moratorium on describing sex in this story. Her reasons are as follows: Flack and Sam belong to Tinks and therefore she is the only one who write them, er, **_**in flagrante**_**. And while Adam is a major part of this story, she has decided that anything to do with him bedroom-wise is strictly private. Which is a bit hypocritical of the entity that came up with Steam Rising in my opinion, but who am I to argue with the Muse?**

**Thanks so much to everyone who is following this story – I am so touched at all your kind words, especially those who think I am sort of managing to vaguely get the **_**right**_** image of Sam Ross across! This one's for you…**

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

As their breathing settled, Sam could feel Don's face pressed into the crease between her shoulder and her neck, his breath hot on her neck, his arm firmly wrapped around her waist, caressing her enlarging stomach.

Their clothes lay strewn across the floor haphazardly, flung in all directions in the initial heat of the moment, before something unexpected had happened.

Don had gone all tender and gentle on her. It wasn't that he wasn't capable of being like that or that he didn't because he frequently did, but there had been something about their love-making that had been, well unusual.

Instead of taking control, talking dirty to her and demanding she tell him what she wanted and needed, he'd been unusually silent, speaking only through his deep, blue eyes. Instead of covering her, or pulling her on top of him, he'd insisted on their being side by side, pulling one leg across his hip, gently rocking them together until they'd both been totally breathless. He'd ended it, by gently coming behind her and taking her gently from a spooning position, continuing to rock them to a gentle, but satisfying climax.

The entire time it had been like he was trying to say he was sorry through his actions, by showing her how much he cherished her through every stroke and every caress. And there was another, almost desperate element to it. And it was freaking the shit out of her.

Don suddenly pulled her in closer to him, altering their position so that they were even closer together. He nuzzled her ear through the wild locks that had escaped the plaits in the heat of passion. Sam elbowed her husband in the ribs and he stiffened in shock.

"Jesus Sammie!" he said, "Why the hell do you have to be such a vicious little thing sometimes?"

Sam sat up and extracted the NYPD t-shirt she had been wearing from a pile of clothes by the couch and pulled it over her head, running her fingers through her messy hair. She turned and looked down at Don, lying on his back, his arms behind his head, looking up at her questioningly.

"Donnie," she said slowly, "And I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but what the hell was that?"

Don sat up and grabbed his wife-beater and pants from the floor. He was clearly uncomfortable.

"We made love, Sammy," he said, "Why do you suddenly want to analyze the deed?"

Sam laid a hand on his arm, "Because that… that's not what we do," she said, "We have great sex, we make love ferociously, but it's never like that. You were quiet and it's freaking me out."

"Jesus," said Don, "Half the time you bitch about me talking dirty to you and having you tell me what you want and now you're all weird because I _didn't?"_

"Don," she said, looking at him like he was a crazy person, "We have had sex all over this apartment; on this couch more than once, up against the wall, the door, in the shower," she grinned as she remembered _that_, "In the elevator, on the floor, against the kitchen counter, _on_ the kitchen counter, up against the door in the hallway, in our bed, occasionally and you knocked me up in your SUV in an alleyway for fuck's sake."

Don opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand to stop him.

"I think we even out sutra'd the Kama Sutra on positions," she continued, "In fact I'm pretty sure we've come up with some that no-one ever dreamed of in their wildest chandelier-swinging phase, but we have _never_ done that."

"Can't a man be all tender with his wife when he's fucked up?" muttered Don, starting to blush a little.

"Fucked up, as in the stupid thing you did," asked Sam, "Or fucked up as in something's really bugging you?"

As Don turned over his hands and stared fixedly at his palms, Sam knew she had hit the nail right square on the head. Sam took his hand and slid across the couch towards him.

"I'm sorry I thought you were having an affair," she said, "I just freaked out."

"I know," said Don, "But Sammie, I wouldn't do that to you, I just wouldn't especially not now I…."

And in a flash, Sam knew what Don was trying to say. He wouldn't do it to her _because his father had_. And Don had enough issues wondering if he was going to be just like Don Senior; now he had to face up to the fact that while his mother had been expecting him, some other woman had been expecting his sister. Sam knew only too well that Don had his concerns about whether or not he would be a good father, if he would give his own kid the same kind of shitty childhood he'd been through. Now he was wondering if he was the same kind of man as well, the same kind of husband his father had been to his mother.

"Don," said Sam, tugging his hair gently to make him look at her, "I know you're scared."

He gave her a look that just dripped sarcasm. Sam just pitched her head slightly to one side. The look faded.

"Baby, I _know_ you're scared," she continued, "But you are _not_ your father.

She shifted into his lap, a move she knew would get him all riled up and felt his hands tighten on her hips. She looked him straight in the eye, a feisty glint in them.

"Now will you take me to bed," she said wickedly, grinning, "And remind me what kind of a dirty minded pervert I married?"

Don smirked and pulled her closer to him, a move that told her all she needed to know.

"And just what kind of dirty-minded pervert do you think I am?" he asked in reply.

"The kind I'm madly in love with," replied Sam, shutting him up with a searing kiss.

They didn't make it to the bedroom.

Again.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Don glared at his brother-in-law as they met at the front gate to his parents' house. Adam was out of breath, having had to park a couple of streets away. Don and Sam were luckier, having pulled into the driveway behind Don's father's car. Adam was dressed in a dark blue shirt, buttoned up wrong (and wrinkled) over a Battlestar Galactica t-shirt. His jeans were ripped and he was wearing a pair of navy and white Van's skate shoes on his feet. His customary courier bag was slung over his shoulder. His hair, untameable by any standards, was standing up all over the place as usual.

In contrast, Don was dressed smartly in black chinos, a forest green Henley polo shirt and his smart shoes, wearing his Mets baseball cap defiantly. Well, you could take the boy outta Queens… Sam was wearing a long, red tunic over smart black pants.

"Jeez, Adam!" said Don, "Could you not have made an effort? Smartened up a little?"

Sam patted her husband on the chest.

"Baby," she said, "That _is_ Peanut making an effort. That's his Sunday best." She grinned at her brother. "You should have seen what Don wanted to wear," she said in an aside to Adam, "I practically had to drag the ripped surf shorts he was going to wear off of him, I mean they've got a rip in the cr…"

"Sammie!" her husband said sharply. She rolled her eyes and continued.

"And he managed to get those god-awful Adidas trainers out of the trash _again_, but he saw sense."

"I wasn't going to wear them to my mom's," Don muttered.

Sam turned to her husband, reached up and kissed his cheek.

"I know baby," she said, "But please remember that not all mere mortals can be as obsessed with looking as sharp as you. But honestly, sweetheart, those things have _got_ to go."

"There's nothing wrong with them!" Don exclaimed.

"Baby," said Sam, "They practically walked out to the trash by themselves."

Adam frowned at his sister and brother-in-law.

"Why am I here again?" he asked.

"Because you opened your mouth," started Sam.

"And words came out," continued Don.

"So now you have to be punished," finished Sam.

"And we couldn't think of anything worse than sticking you in a room full of Flacks, especially seeing as you're shit scared of my dad," said Don.

Adam went white. He beat a swift path to the Flack family residence and rang the doorbell.

The door opened and Adam was suddenly confronted by the most stunning woman he had ever encountered in his existence. He had to admit, Seven of Nine and T'Pol had nothing on this woman. The eyes got him first; the sparkling hazel eyes, with the ring of smoky grey round the edge, the flecks of amber and the mix of green, grey and brown that fought for control of the color, depending on her mood. He noticed the lips, the red, heart-shaped pout, much like her brother's (though no-one would ever tell Don Flack that), the pale creamy skin, the hint of roses in her cheeks. Her long, dark wavy hair tumbled over her shoulder, unbound for a change, which she kept tucking behind her ear and his eyes wandered down her body, taking in the curves, the small waist, her long legs, clad in jeans and – Don was going to freak – a black NJ Devils t-shirt. Adam had always considered himself a fan of blondes, Aurora not Snow White. Adam, in about ten seconds, realized he was wrong. The vision smiled slowly and spoke. Adam didn't hear her at first, so she snapped her fingers in front of his eyes.

"Huh?" he said.

"Take a picture," the vision said, "It'll last longer."

Don caught his brother-in-law up at the top of the steps, taking in the amused look on Anna's face and the dumbstruck one on Adam's.

"Anna," he said, "Meet Adam Ross, the man I am still not convinced is actually related to my wife. Adam, meet my sister Anna."

Anna grinned broadly and stuck out her hand. It took a while for Adam to respond. Don turned and guided Sam up the steps, his hand in the small of her back.

"Baby," he said, "Meet Anna, the kind of sister I can actually introduce to people."

Anna shot a look at him, Sam poked him in the ribs. Don winced.

"Anna," he said, "In case you hadn't guessed, this is Sam, my wife, easy on the eye, hell on the nerves, tiny but very determined."

Don suddenly realized what Anna was wearing. "Please tell me that is not what I think it is," he said, appalled.

Anna raised an eyebrow.

"Brodeur was hotter than Lundqvist," she said, "And judging from the appalling Rangers defense at their last game, I think I made the right choice picking the Devils."

She stood aside and gestured them into the house. Sam grinned at her. She already liked her.

"Ma making you useful already?" said Don, smirking.

"Your mother," said Anna, "Looked me up and down, said I looked exactly like all of her children and welcomed me to the family. Then she told me to make myself useful, set the table and answer the door if the doorbell rang."

Don grinned. His ma liked her for sure.

"Dad still alive?" he asked.

"Well there's no sign of serious injury," said Anna, closing the door behind them all.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Don kissed his mother on the cheek, before Sam was abducted into the kitchen and subjected to a barrage of questions about how the baby was doing, how Sam was feeling and no small amount of sympathy from Patricia. When she had been pregnant with Donnie, she had frequently told the petite woman, she had gone through hell. Perpetual morning sickness, insatiable appetite, swollen legs, high blood pressure. She knew exactly how Sam felt. She produced some crackers and milk for her, a pre-lunch snack, while Don and his father sat in the small living room and drank some beers, chatting about this and that, what was going on down at the precinct, how cases were doing. Sam Flack had brought the men together in a way they had never been before and Don Sr was certainly a great deal more laid back towards his son since Sam had read them the riot act over the way he put Don Jr down early in the relationship. Anna had been dragged over to the dining area and was noisily setting the table. Adam, meanwhile, was sitting in the corner, surreptitiously playing his Nintendo DS trying to make himself as invisible as possible. Don's father couldn't resist. He glared at the lab tech.

"Ross!" he shouted, "What's all this I hear about you causing problems for Junior and his pretty little wife?" he asked.

Adam jumped at the tone, dropping his handheld game and clumsily tried to pick it back up. Don grinned into the neck of his bottle of beer.

"It was, uh, well, I, didn't, I…" he said, stuttering slightly. He took a breath, a gulp of air, "I messed up. I was trying to support Don. I didn't know he hadn't told Sam."

Don senior grinned.

"I'm just messing with you boy," he said jokingly, "It's not your fault."

Adam sighed in relief and turned his attention back to the game at hand. Don turned to his father.

"So, Jimmy not here?" he asked.

"No," replied his father, "When I answered the door, Anna told me he was parking the car and then we saw him just drive away. Anna's not pleased at being dropped into this den of iniquity all alone I can tell you."

Don grinned. His father chuckled.

"Your mother likes her already," he said. Then his face clouded. "Not hard, really," he said, "She's worth ten of Mel."

The older man took a swig of his own drink. He had long since given up on his youngest daughter.

"Did you ask Mel and Chris to come over?" Don asked.

"I didn't," his father admitted, "But your mother called them both. Mel claimed she already had plans today, probably drinking herself into a stupor, and Chris said he didn't want anything to do with a bastard Flack. Then he asked her for cash. Your ma hung up on him. It upset her though. So when Anna showed, smart, prompt, looking like you and me, she was more than willing to give her a chance."

The old man shook his head in disbelief.

"She asked me just now if she could tell Anna she could call her ma. Unbelievable. I never thought she would say that."

Don was a little shocked. Sam walked over to the two mean, glass of milk in hand.

"You boys OK?" she asked. Don quickly changed the subject.

"We were just discussing how alike Anna is to the rest of the family," he said, "And, honey, I think it's fair to say I got the looks," said Flack.

Hearing this from the other side of the room, Anna snorted,

"As if!" she replied, "Next thing you'll be telling me you got the brains of the family as well!"

Don senior and Sam broke into laughter, joined by Patty, who walked through from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Lunchtime you lot," she announced, and they all made their way to the table.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Lunch was uneventful. There was some good-natured banter between the new siblings, which caused Don's parents to threaten to separate them, plus some usual embarrassment for Adam. Both Anna and Sam, at one point, smacked Don upside his head for some smart-ass comment, something which had Don's father roar with laughter.

After lunch, the men cleared, while the women sat at the table and enjoyed their coffee. Patricia was very taken with the engaging Irish girl, so similar and yet so different to Mel. She had no idea what had gone wrong with her daughter and this was something that caused her a great deal of pain, not that she ever discussed it with her family. Both her husband and her son, she knew, had spent a great deal of time and effort trying to straighten her out, but both had recently washed their hands of her. She knew it had broken her husband's heart, his daughter being like that and she also knew he wanted to get closer to Anna and bring her into the family fold, so he could have a little girl again. And having met her, Patricia wasn't about to deny him that. Observing her younger son, she realized Donnie was growing to like his new sister more and more, the longer he spent getting to know her. They were so similar, she thought, so alike. She also thought that it didn't hurt that her daughter-in-law was warming to her so quickly either. Unlike Melanie. Sam got up and wandered over to her husband as Patricia cleared the coffee cups into the kitchen. Anna simply watched the family portrait develop over in the living room. Their father had turned the channel onto ESPN, the hockey game between the Devils and the Rangers about to start. Anna filled her glass with some beer.

Anna had watched her brother and his wife together, the little moments where they thought no-one was watching them. His kisses to her temple and top of her head, the grin as he touched her growing tummy, the glow in her eyes and face as Sam looked at her husband; the secret smiles they shared, constantly touching, hands brushing each other, the body contact from hip to shoulder as they sat side by side on his mom's couch, they way he would nuzzle her ear, the way Sam would stroke the back of his neck, just where the hairline met skin. Two people, totally in love, totally passionate about each other. Completely connected. She knew her brother was a good man and she guessed that she would always be able to count on him. Sam kissed her husband and walked back to the kitchen to help Patricia put the dishes away. Don looked over and saw Anna watching him.

"What's so interesting?" he asked.

"I decided I wanted to observe the species in its natural environment," replied Anna.

"Say what?" asked Don, a little confused.

"Watch little brother and father engage in macho male bonding exercise. Make like cavemen, drink much beer, watch much hockey," she replied.

"Very funny." Don snorted, "You coming to watch the game?"

"I'll be over there with Sam and your mother," said Anna, nodding in the direction of the two women, "In civilization. Getting to know all the gossip about my baby brother. Communing with your devil foetus"

"My child is not a demon," said Don.

"You're A Flack, Don and that means that if it doesn't have at least part of its DNA in common with Lucifer, then it's still got an up-close and personal relationship with him."

Their father laughed.

"How would you know?" said Don.

"Remember the scar Donnie?"

"Yeah?"

"Well I could be even worse than that," said Anna.

"I somehow doubt that," said their father.

"Fine, Dad," said Anna, "Neighborhood barbecue, aged 7. I sneakily mix red wine, white wine and orange juice and fed it to all the other kids. They got hyper and hung-over and no-one figured out why."

Flack snorted.

"Or the time I stole my grandma's fox fur and hid it under her blankets. She didn't find it till she climbed into bed and screamed the house down."

He looked at his sister. His father was chuckling into his beer.

"And then there's the time I told this kid who broke his arm at school that to take x-rays, they had to take the bones out of your body first. He screamed blue murder apparently."

Flack's mouth dropped open. Anna took a sip of her drink and shrugged.

"And you know the strangest thing?" she said. He shook his head. "All I had to do was flash my then baby blues at people with an innocent look on my face and no-one thought it could have been me, that I could pull off shit like that."

She had an evil glint in her eyes.

"For example," she said, "Did you realize that I smoke?"

Flack shook his head. Anna smirked.

"I rest my case," she said. She turned to Sam, who was now standing beside her, "Is Donnie like that? Was he like that as a kid?"

Sam shook her head.

"No," she replied, "Don's not particularly evil, just plain dirty."

Don flushed red as Anna laughed and grinned. She lifted her glass to him in a silent toast.

"That makes two of us," she said.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Somehow Anna and Sam wound up sitting next to one another on the couch as the game progressed. After the Rangers went one-up in the first period, the girls had to endure some heavy-weight sarcastic remarks from Don about their team, but at the end of the second period, the Devils evened the score.

"You sure Avery's a Ranger?" asked Sam, knowing this question would wind up Don.

"Yeah," Don bit out, a cold look in his eyes as he glared at the TV, where there was now a close-up of Sean Avery messing things up as usual.

"Could have fooled me," said Anna, "Seems like he's playing for himself."

"You know," said Sam, turning to her sister-in-law, "I really feel sorry for the King."

"Me too," agreed Anna, "I mean look at Girardi, he's more interested in the puck buddies in the front seats."

"And as for Wade Redden," snorted Sam with no small amount of derision, "Those gaps between him and the offense are wider than prairies and wheat fields in the mid West."

"Wade Redden has his moments!" protested Don.

"When?" said his father sarcastically, "Which decade?"

Sam and Anna laughed, leaning into each other.

"Go Devils!" they declared together loudly.

In the closing minutes of the game, the Devils took the lead, winning the game two goals to one. Don was disgusted. The girls were thrilled, exchanging high fives.

Adam had refused to get involved. Needing some consolation, Don pulled Sam towards him and lowered his lips to hers. She smiled up at him. Anna made a gagging sound.

"Please!" said Anna, disgusted, as her Don planted a tender kiss on his wife's lips, "Please, I just ate!"

"How old are you?" asked Don, amused, "Ten?"

"No, but old enough to be nauseated by my baby brother getting it on with his wife in public, get a room!" Anna replied.

"Awwww," said Sam, "Poor baby's embarrassed by the PDA." She looked over at her brother, who was studiously ignoring the conversation, fiddling with his iPhone. Adam was just as embarrassed by them too, she thought. He was bright red.

"You know, Anna," Sam continued, "Adam's just as sensitive to you. You should hear him when I bring up Don's and my sex life…"

She tailed off, laughing as Anna clamped her hands firmly over her ears.

"Knock it off you lot!" shouted Don's father from his seat nearer the TV, "You're interrupting the hockey and that's sacrilegious! I will tell your mother what you're talking about."

"Tell me what?" called Patricia from the kitchen.

"Nothing!" the youngsters chorused, like kids caught up to no good.

Don grinned at Sam and leaned in for a lingering kiss.

"Oh please no!" begged Adam, desperately, "I don't need to get those kind of images in my mind!"

Anna stood up, grabbed her jacket and purse, marched over to Adam and grabbed his wrist, dragging him upright.

"Come on Geek," she said, "Let's get out of here. You can give me a ride back to Malloy's."

Adam looked flustered, but started grabbing his belongings together. Don senior chuckled. Sam watched the proceedings with an amused glint in her eye.

"Where are you taking my baby brother?" she asked.

"Away," replied Anna, "I'm going to corrupt him." Adam looked at the two women with a look of panic in his eyes. Anna grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him towards the front door. Sam laughed.

"Fair enough," she said, "But can you please return him to the lab in one piece?"

Anna grinned. She looked at Adam and seeing the panicked look in his eyes, she ruffled his already messy hair.

"Don't worry Ross," she said, "I'm not going to hurt you." But as she walked out of the door, the occupants of the Flack residence quite clearly heard her last word.

"Much."

Sam turned to Don and nestled further into his one-armed embrace.

"I like her, she declared, "But you want to know something?"

"What?" asked Don.

"Your sister's a force of nature, Don, just like you, except she's a freaking tornado."

"Like me?" asked Don.

"No baby," replied Sam, "You just make the earth move."

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

**OK, so this is the t-shirt Anna is wearing to lunch with the family, in case anyone wants to know: ****.?productId=3505638&cp=3169600&clickid=body_bestsell_img**

**BEG 75 and I were commenting just last night about how I appear to be channeling Sam Ross these days (and getting all her dirty images about her husband LOL). I don't know what you all think, but I'm enjoying writing this and I hope you're liking reading it. However, it's a very hard thing to do this, really hard.**

**And by the way? All of those evil things Anna did as a kid? They're real. How do I know? Guess who did them?**

**Please leave a note! Let me know you stopped by!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – Notes on a Crisis, Notes on Romance**

**Usual disclaimer applies to CBS and their associated production companies. Any similarity to storylines and characters is accidental not intentional.**

**A big shout out, grateful thanks and future offspring to BEG 75, for checking this over as always. Thanks for lending me Sam and the other OCs from your 'verse honey *hugs*. Hope I'm doing them justice.**

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Don found Anna standing by reception at One Police Plaza, staring death glares at Stephanie, the blonde receptionist who regarded herself as gatekeeper to the higher powers. What the higher powers thought of Stephanie was unrepeatable.

Grinning, Don reached over the desk and snagged his sister a visitor's pass and signed her in, giving Stephanie a warning look as he did. He made sure the girl knew that Anna was his sister. Before instantly regretting it, as he knew fine well that news would be all over the building before they reached the 35th floor. Anna flipped the finger at the blonde receptionist as the doors to the elevator closed. Don chuckled.

"So," he said, "Sammy told me she'd called you and suggested this little outing."

"Your wife said I was not a proper New Yorker until I had maxed out my credit limit on Fifth Avenue," replied Anna, "So that's where we're headed first. I'm going to treat her to a spa treatment too."

Don smirked. He didn't think Sam would sit still long enough.

"What you got planned for my wife?" he asked.

"Pedicure, facial," said Anna, "Massage, you know, girl stuff."

Don sighed. There would be a whole load of new toiletries in the bathroom by the time he got off shift, he thought, seeing as girls were real vulnerable to sales pressure when they were all pampered out.

"Where you going for this massage?" he asked, before instantly regretting it.

"Sam suggested this place she knows in SoHo," said Anna, as the doors to the elevator pinged open on Don's floor, "She said something about hot, oiled young men delivering the massages and I said great idea," Anna said wickedly, watching her brother get off the elevator before turning to face her an appalled look on his face.

Anna grinned wickedly before giving her brother a tiny wave as the doors shut and the elevator headed on upwards to its destination. Don pulled out his cell and dialed Sam.

"Baby," he said, a little anxiously, "What the hell was Anna talking about? She said something about male massage men…?" his conversation tailing off as he heard his wife erupting into laughter on the other end.

"Thanks," he muttered, "Gee, thanks a lot for laughing at my discomfort!" before he pressed the call end button and shoved it back in his pocket. Now he had some godforsaken image of his naked, pregnant wife having all her wants and needs being attended to by… He shook his head. Better stop there.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Sam had apologized to Anna, explaining that she was tied up in ballistics with some test fire thing she was doing with someone named Hawkes. Tapping her feet, Anna craned her neck to look up and down the glass wall-lined corridors of the NY Crime Lab. Sam had introduced her to someone named Lindsay and someone else called Stella, explaining that she was Don's long-lost sister. Aside from a quizzical look from Lindsay, which had been rebuffed by Sam shaking her head furiously, no-one had asked any questions, but the Irish girl guessed she was probably the topic of conversation by now.

Sam had steered her to the break room and handed her a donut and a coffee and asked her, pleadingly, to wait for just a little while, but now Anna was bored. _Forensics Monthly_ was not a particularly good distraction. Then she caught sight of someone familiar.

_Thank god, _thought Anna, jumping to her feet and hurrying down the corridor.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Adam was lost in his evidence, a not uncommon occurrence on the 35th floor. He was either explaining it to the rest of the team, bamboozling the detectives with his superb analysis or he was lost in it, finding the answers and the minute pieces of trace that added up into clues and answers. Adam was the lab's answer to HAL and the reason they closed so many cases successfully. He was also known for getting so absorbed in it that he lost track of time completely. It was not unknown for the graveyard shift supervisor to be telling Adam to go home in the small hours, when he had been there since 8am.

He was also good at tuning out interference and gossip from the other, especially female, techs. Slowly he became aware of someone leaning against the table next to him, arms folded and he colored a little, remembering just how drunk she'd got him at Malloy's, before pouring him into a cab and sending him into the night after that lunch at the Flacks.

"Hey Geek!" said Anna, grinning, "Recovered all right?"

"My liver will never be the same again," Adam finally managed to say, blushing furiously.

Anna looked him up and down.

"Nice threads," she commented, "Find an iron?"

Adam blushed even more.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. Anna pushed herself into a sitting position on the edge of the table swinging her legs.

"I am taking your sister out on a bonding exercise," she said, "otherwise known as shop till you drop. She has Don's credit card and I am going to help her max it out."

Adam chuckled slightly. He knew his sister.

"Then," added Anna, "I am taking her off for some spa treatments, my expense." She grinned as she recalled the look on Don's face.

"I told him we were getting massages from hot, oiled young men," she chuckled wickedly, "You should have seen the look on his face!"

Adam's mouth went dry. He knew exactly what look Anna was referring to, but his brain was suddenly filled with the image of the woman in front of him, lying naked on a massage table and he suddenly lost the power of focus and speech. He stared at her, before blushing furiously and tried to absorb himself in what he had been doing, Anna slowly smiled.

"Do I make you nervous, Adam?" she asked, with a little giggle. Adam blushed redder. Anna leaned closer to him and laid her mouth next to his ear.

"Don't be scared," she whispered, "I don't bite," she leaned backwards, waving to Sam as she saw her making her way towards Trace, "Well, she added, "I don't leave marks where they show!"

She walked off, leaving Adam, bright red and flustered, trying to piece together the puzzle in front of him. He looked up to see her walk away, turning once to blow him a kiss and grin.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Mac Taylor had watched the lab tech that morning walk past his office several times, trying to figure out what was different.

It took him a while before he realized that Adam was not in jeans, but trousers. And that his shirt was buttoned and, get this, _tucked in_. Not to mention the t-shirt underneath was dark. He still wore trainers, but they were much smarter than his usual ones. Mac pondered what could have caused the change.

Stella walked into the office, coming over to him and offering him a tiny kiss on the cheek. He smiled up at her. She leaned over the desk, looking at the case file he had open.

"Hey Mac," she said, "Penny for them?"

"I was just thinking that Adam suddenly seems much smarter than usual," said Mac, gesturing towards where the lab tech was working.

"Yeah," said Stella, "He really has spruced right up all of a sudden. I wonder what caused that?" she mused.

"Who's the brunette with him?" asked Mac, ever watchful for strangers in the lab.

"Anna," replied Stella, "Don Flack's new-found sister. You remember Adam found her DNA from the staff at Malloy's?"

Mac nodded, remembering a flustered Adam bringing him the news and asking for his advice on how to handle the situation. He'd heard rumors of a little misunderstanding between his CSI and the tall homicide detective about that. He chuckled.

He and Stella watched the scene unfold, Adam's blushes clearly visible through the glass, despite the distance. Then it struck him: The change in Adam. He looked at Stella, who had, quite clearly come to the same conclusion as he had. _Score one for the detectives,_ he thought. The two of them watched the scene unfold, the kiss blown and Sam and Anna walk off towards the elevator, arm in arm. Then they turned back to watch Adam.

The lab tech clearly shook his head, focusing on his work. And then they saw him smile to himself, a small one, but a smile nonetheless. Mac turned to Stella.

"_Adam?"_ he said, incredulously.

"And Flack's _sister_?" replied Stella.

They turned back to look at Adam. Oh boy, they were both thinking. Oh boy.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Adam found himself reluctantly dragged to a diner by his brother-in-law to meet the two girls. Don had mentioned something about his sister needing a balance to even out the Flack DNA or something. Whatever.

They walked through the doors to find the two girls laughing over something. A happy, relaxed, blessed out-looking Sam looked up and saw them, waving to the two men. They walked over to join them. Sam had a large milkshake, but appeared to be taking equal sips out of another glass filled with something red, next to it.

"Baby, what is in those glasses?" he asked, knowing he might regret it.

"Phish food shake in this one," gestured Sam, "And virgin Mary in this one."

Adam looked ill. Anna grinned. Don shuddered in distaste.

"Ain't cravings a bitch?" she said, "And it's all your fault baby brother!"

"It takes two," said Flack, smiling smugly, "Want to know where and how?"

"Err, no," said Anna hastily, "And I don't think Adam does either," she said glancing at the man now sitting next to her. Don sat down next to his wife, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and kissing her temple. She leaned into his side, her hand on his chest.

"You OK baby?" he asked, concerned as always.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," she said, smiling blissfully, "That massage was the business. I am going to take you for one too," she said to her husband, "Sven has magic hands, magic," she sighed.

_Yeah right,_ thought Don, _when hell freezes over_, making a mental note to have _Sven's_ immigration status checked as a matter of urgency.

Anna and Adam were observing the couple closely.

"Special circle of hell," said Anna.

"The one for child molesters and people that talk at the opera," agreed Adam.

"And my brother," concluded Anna, nodding, before grinning. Don looked at them, irritated. Anna turned to Adam.

"I loved that series," she declared.

"Me too," agreed Adam, "_Firefly_ was awesome. Did you like the movie?"

"Uh huh," Anna nodded vigorously, "_Serenity _was just brilliant. Joss Whedon is a god among mortals."

"Buffy or Faith?" asked Adam.

"Oh, Faith, obviously," replied Anna, "That girl is more feisty and way prettier. What about you? Spike, Angel or Xander."

Adam made the fifty-fifty wave with his hand. "About equal with Spike and Xander," he said, "I mean Spike is way cool, but I feel a strange affinity to Xander."

Anna grinned. Don snorted then leaned over the table and grabbed her collar, making like he was looking down her shirt.

"Hey gerroff!" said Anna, twisting to get out of his grasp, "What are you doing, you great oaf?"

"Checking for geek DNA," said Don, smirking, releasing her from his grip, "Dad will be worried when he finds out you're a Sci-fi nerd."

"Oh please," said Anna, straightening her shirt, aware of Adam and Sam grinning, "Just because I like something with a hint of intelligence." She turned back to Adam.

"I really want to see the new _Terminator_ and _Star Trek_ movies," she said enthusiastically.

Adam nodded and Don chuckled.

"What?" said Anna, "What's so funny?"

"That you have a thing for Arnie," said Don, laughing. Sam was giggling too. Anna looked at Don as though he was challenged.

"I don't have a thing for the Austrian ham," she said, "It's the machines and special effects that turn me on."

Sam spat out the mouthful of milkshake that she was trying to swallow. Don was speechless.

"I like things with a bit of intelligence," she continued, "Like my men. I like an education."

Sam sneaked a look at Adam, who was trying to look anywhere except at Anna. A small smile formed on her lips.

"Hey!" said Don, "You don't need intelligence to be a good man!"

"True," said Anna, "But it helps a _lot_, right Sammy?"

Sam started to laugh outright. Don glared at his sister then tried to win back a point.

"I know lots of great guys," he said, "I can't wait to introduce you to Scagnetti."

"Please," said Sam, snorting with derision, "That man whore? You can't be serious, your sister?"

"Scagnetti's a great guy," said Don, defending his friend, "He just likes variety with the ladies is all."

"Variety," said Adam, "Is all well and good with Kelloggs cereal, but not so good when it comes to girls…ow!" he said, as Don kicked him under the table. Anna glared back at her brother, before turning her gaze to Sam.

"Really that bad?" she asked. Sam nodded, taking a slurp of her milkshake through the straw.

"Total slut," she confirmed, "Just like your brother."

The three of them, Adam, Anna and Sam erupted into fits of giggles as Don glared at them before going to the counter to place his order.

Don was not impressed with that comment. After their drinks, however, he caught up with Sam outside the ladies and promptly proved her right on her assessment, leaving her flustered and a little disheveled wandering back to the table, followed by a smirking Don.

"That brother of mine is evil," Anna declared.

"Takes a Flack to know a Flack," Don countered, helping Sam into her jacket and grabbing her many shopping bags, "Now let's get over to Sully's and see the guys. There's a few people I want to introduce you to," he said to Anna.

The four left the diner.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

It took Anna all of about twenty seconds to realize Sullivan's was another cop bar and another ten to realize that most of the people in there were looking at her and whispering. She started feeling uncomfortable. She shrugged off her jacket and sat down at the table, a frown on her face. Adam noticed it.

"You OK?" he asked, concerned at her being so quiet. Anna gave a small smile and nod. Not really.

The group was joined by Danny, Lindsay, Hawkes and Stella, who had all just finished their shift. Anna wandered to the bar to help Don, already standing there, to get the drinks in. A drunken co-ed sidled up to Anna, trying to get her attention.

Danny saw Anna glare at the drunken moron who tried to chat her up. In an instant he knew who she reminded him of. It was the same glare that Don gave perps giving him the runaround. He looked from one to the other; the same set jaw, the same tone skin, albeit more tanned in Flack's case, the light hint of pink in their cheeks, the thick black hair and he realized that his first assumption, that they were cousins, was wrong. They were a helluva lot closer than that. Anna Malloy could be nothing other than Don Flack Jr's sister. No wonder Don said things were really fucked up, he thought.

Bringing them back, Don explained who she was. Before Danny could get a wise-crack in, Anna raised her hand for some silence.

"Don's told me all about you," she said,

"I understand you have this bad habit of calling women by the places they're from," said Anna, "Just so's you know, I'm not from Dublin and call me Cork and I will do you a serious injury." She took a swig of her beer and looked him straight in the eye, "And unlike my brother," she added, "I WILL kick you where it hurts if you do, Staten Island. I am a woman of my word."

Flack roared with laughter. Lindsay was laughing so hard tears were pouring down her face and Adam had choked on his beer. Sam was busily thumping her brother on the back, trying to relieve his coughing, which had turned the poor lab tech's face bright red. Danny was speechless. It was one thing to hear that sorta thing coming from outta Flack's mouth, but quite another to hear it like it was his unholy spirit being channeled outta the mouth of a woman. Two Flacks with the same big mouth, quick comeback and sense of humor? Even Danny didn't think this town was big enough for the both of them!

As the evening went on, Danny and Lindsay made their excuses and left, followed by Stella and Hawkes, Stella because Mac probably had dinner ready and Hawkes because he had a date for the opera. Adam was caught up in a discussion with Sam about something work-related, which Anna didn't understand and Don was over at the bar, chatting away to some of his colleagues.

She was really uncomfortable. Insanely uncomfortable. She felt like a zoo exhibit, with everyone watching her. She suddenly snapped, unable to take it any longer. She grabbed her bag and jacket and muttered some excuses, pushing her way through the crowds to the door. Rising swiftly, Sam went to the bar, tugging on Don's arm to get her attention. He looked in the direction she indicated, cursing as he saw the bar door flapping on its hinges as Anna barged through it. He went after her, calling to her as she headed off towards the subway. She stopped and turned, fury in her eyes.

"Where are you going?" said Don, "It's early, I thought we were having a good time!"

"Everyone in there knows who you are Don and they know who Dad is," Anna said, furious. "So what do you think they're thinking right now? They're looking at you and me and they know. They know that our dad cheated on your mother and I'm the result of that."

"Come on," said Don, "No-one's judging you, come back inside." He made a move towards her, putting her hand on her arm. She shrugged him off.

"You're not getting it," she cried out, "You don't get how I feel about this!"

Don stepped back, folding his arms, staring at her a little coldly. Anna ran a hand through her hair.

"You really wouldn't fucking understand Don," she said, "You wouldn't understand what it was like. The parish priest used to denounce my mother from the fucking pulpit, using her as an example every time he talked about fornication or adultery. You know what it was like to hear that shit? As a kid? I used to have to be dragged kicking and screaming to mass. And as soon as I could I stopped going. Kids used to whisper about me behind my back. I had no friends till I went to high school in a bigger community, where there were more little bastards like me."

"Your mom could have done something about it," said Don, instantly regretting the words as they came out of his mouth. Anna's jaw set and her eyes flashed with anger.

"Really Donald?" she said coldly, "Actually you know shit. You want to know something? Mum never had a choice. Abortion is illegal in Ireland and her parents wouldn't let her go to England to have a termination."

"That's not what I meant," he protested, "I didn't mean it like that!"

"I don't care," screamed Anna, "You have no idea what it was like to live with a bitter woman who blamed you for her own mistakes," she said, her chest heaving with the tears that were falling. Don tried to hug her, but she pushed him away.

"She drank herself into an early grave," she said, "Did Dad tell you that?"

Don shook his head. No, their father hadn't. He tried to hug her again, but again she rebuffed him. He threw his hands up in frustration.

"Why are you pushing me away," asked Don, irritated.

"Because I'm not ready for this and neither are you," replied Anna.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" asked Don, anger building in his voice.

"I get it Don," she said, "I get you're not ready for another sister, you're not ready to be a father and I get that you're blindly doing this, bulldozing everyone's feelings and emotions but you can't just do this. You can't just blindly drop me into the middle of your family, your colleagues, your social situation and your friends and pretend that I've been a part of your life from day one. It doesn't work like that. I don't know you Donnie, I spent 30 years on my own, as an only child, even if I did know you guys existed and I dealt with all manner of shit on my own without a brother to beat up the bullies or hug me when my mother was off on one. You cannot expect me to just flip a switch and fit in everywhere, but you do."

"I don't…" Don tried to begin, but he was cut off by his sister.

"You do Donnie, you do," she said, "You might not realize it but you're pushing way too hard and I can't handle all of this right now."

At that moment, Adam and Sam arrived on the scene, looking from one to the other. For once in his life, Adam took charge of the situation, as Sam went to her husband. He walked to the Irish girl and put one arm around her shoulder.

"Hey Anna," he said, "Let's go catch one of those movies at the Cineplex on the next block. There's late night showings. If we hurry we can catch one. I got the times from my iPhone."

Anna nodded, smiling a watery smile, wiping the tears from her eyes. Adam guided her in the direction of the Cineplex. Sam, watching them go, had never been prouder of her brother than at that moment. _Way to go Peanut_, she thought. She turned to Don, knowing there was nothing she could say.

And Don watched as his sister walked away from him, away from Sullivan's, into the night.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

**OK, so humor, crisis, possible romance all in one chapter and I'm still getting no actual academic work done 'cause of the muse [sigh].**

**Thanks to all the lurkers who've started to stop by! I appreciate it muchly…**

**Please R&R and get on over to Shabbs the Corruptor's forum to vote for your favorite stories and people. Please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – Breathe Easy**

**I don't normally do this, but I'm putting some song lyrics into this chapter, mainly because I feel it really sums up how everyone is feeling about the past in my AU…**

**Thanks as always to Tinks and Dori, for keeping me sane and encouraging me on with this. I so appreciate you guys for keeping me right on Sammie, because she belongs to one of you and the other loves her so damn much!**

_Sometimes is never quite enough__  
__If you're flawless, then you'll win my love__  
__Don't forget to win first place__  
__Don't forget to keep that smile on your face___

_Be a good boy__  
__Try a little harder__  
__You've got to measure up__  
__And make me prouder___

_How long before you screw it up__  
__How many times do I have to tell you to hurry up__  
__With everything I do for you__  
__The least you can do is keep quiet___

_Be a good girl__  
__You've gotta try a little harder__  
__That simply wasn't good enough__  
__To make us proud___

_I'll live through you__  
__I'll make you what I never was__  
__If you're the best, then maybe so am I__  
__Compared to him compared to her__  
__I'm doing this for your own damn good__  
__You'll make up for what I blew__  
__What's the problem, why are you crying___

_Be a good boy__  
__Push a little farther now__  
__That wasn't fast enough__  
__To make us happy__  
__We'll love you just the way you are__  
__If you're perfect_

**Perfect – Alanis Morisette**

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Anna was lying on the bed in the small room she occupied above Malloy's. The bar was closed and the sounds of the customers had long since died away in the streets. She stared up at the ceiling thinking about what had happened; the fight she had had with her brother outside of Sully's.

She had totally freaked out. She knew it. She had said some unforgiveable things. Not that they weren't true, but probably unforgiveable. She had just screwed up the only decent thing to happen to her in a very long time. Well, she reasoned a little, one of the only decent things to happen to her in a very long time. Mind you, some of those decent things were tied to her brother.

Anna's eyes filled with frustrated tears and she rolled over, hiding her head under the pillow to muffle the sound of her crying. The last thing she needed was for Jimmy to hear her and come to see what the problem was…

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Adam let himself back into his apartment after finally getting back from Brooklyn, where he'd dropped off Anna at Malloy's. They'd finally settled on _Terminator: Salvation_, not, he thought, that Anna had concentrated on the movie at all. She'd refused all refreshment, which had made him feel pretty self conscious slurping on his large coke and munching on his huge box of popcorn. Every time he'd taken a glance in her direction, she'd sat with her eyes firmly fixed on the screen, her jaw set, just like Don's. Her hands had gripped the armrests on her seat. He hadn't dared try to take one of them, let alone slip his arm around her shoulder again. He could sense that she would probably freak out. Or hit him. Or possibly deliver the icy Flack glare that the whole family seemed to have genetically programmed into them.

As the end titles had rolled on the film (not one of the series' best in Adam's humble opinion), Anna had stood swiftly, grabbed her jacket and made a beeline for the door to the theater and Adam had been forced to grab his own and hurry after her.

He'd managed to convince her to let her see her back to the bar, but only just and instead of stopping for a drink to talk, she'd made her way swiftly through the bar, through the door that led to the stairs to the apartment above and disappeared without saying a word.

He'd almost gotten out the door when he'd felt a hand on his shoulder. He'd turned to see the concerned hazel eyes of Jimmy Malloy and without a word had walked back towards the bar and accepted the pint of Guinness that the bar owner had set in front of him, not that it was his drink. He'd barely gotten a mouthful down when the older man had started asking questions.

"What happened son?" Jimmy had asked. Adam had just looked at him and Jimmy had sighed.

"Junior always was gung ho about things," said Jimmy, not even needing to hear about the whole situation.

"I only caught the end of things," admitted Adam, "But from the sound of it, Anna's not dealing well with being dragged into the Flack family kicking and screaming."

He took another sip of the bitter, black liquid, trying not to make a face at the taste. Jimmy sighed and shook his head.

"Anna doesn't do well with others," Jimmy said, "She had no brothers and sisters growing up and a bitter mother. I don't think she had many friends either. She's a loner."

Adam remained silent. Jimmy picked up a glass and began to polish it with a dish towel.

"She's stubborn too," he said, "Just like her brother and father. You can't force her to do anything against her will and if she feels uncomfortable with it, she pushes right back with a temper tantrum. Just like when she was a little girl."

Jimmy put down the glass and looked Adam straight in the eye.

"You like my grand-niece, don't you boy?" he said bluntly. Adam colored a little, but he nodded. Jimmy looked at him warily, hesitating slightly before he spoke again.

"Then you need to know Anna behaves the way she does, because of things that happened a long time ago," he said, "It's not my story to tell, she'll tell you in her own good time."

Jimmy nodded to himself, as though he was satisfied with what had passed unsaid.

Adam had a pretty good idea of what he meant though. He had been there. So had Sammie. And sometimes you could just see it in other people too, before anything was said. It was an unspoken bond between strangers. Or in this case, family.

And he made up his mind right there and then that he was always going to be there for Anna. Because he knew exactly what it was like to be thrust into the bosom of the loud, boisterous Flack family. And what hiding things was like.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

The bedroom was dark, the only light from the streetlight beam that she could see through the gap in the curtains. Both of their bodies were slick with sweat from making love, one arm across his stomach, the other under her neck. She was curled into his side as he lay on his back, the only sound in the room his ragged breathing. She suddenly winced as the baby within her gave a particularly vicious kick in the direction of her kidneys.

"Sammie?" Don said, raising his head to look at her.

"Nothing," she said, rubbing the sore spot, "Just your demon spawn making his or her presence known."

He grinned and covered the spot with his own hand, gently rubbing and soothing the pain away. She sighed.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much," she replied, reaching up a little to kiss him on the underside of his jaw, "Now are you going to tell me what went down between you and Anna, cause I have to tell you Donnie, it didn't look pretty from where I was standing."

His hand on her stomach stilled. He let out a heavy sigh.

"We had a fight," he said finally, "She said I was pushing way too hard."

Sam pushed herself up onto one arm to look down at her husband.

"Are you trying to tell me that's all it was about?" she asked.

He pulled her down into his arms, his hands rubbing her back.

"Anna's got it into her head that everyone's talking about her, because of Dad and because of me," he said.

"Somehow I don't think that's all there is to it Donald," Sam said drily. Don sighed.

"She also seems to have got it into her head that I'm trying to pretend that none of the last 30 years happened," he continued, "That she's been around the whole time," he said, "I'm not Sam, I'm not trying to do that. I'm just trying to include her is all."

Sam rubbed her small hand in circles on his chest. He covered it with his own.

"Baby, you really don't know that much about her yet," she said, "There's probably a lot more about her and her past that you don't know yet. I mean, imagine this was you, having a whole family dropped on you on top of moving to a different city, hell a different country!"

"I didn't think about it like that," Don admitted. He curled his fingers around hers.

"No baby," Sam sighed, "Sometimes you don't think at all. You just bulldoze on in there and forget that other people sometime have ideas, opinions and feelings of their own."

Her husband stilled the movement of his other hand on her back.

"Don?" she asked, concerned, "Is there something else you're not telling me?"

"She told me a few other things," he confessed, "That you're right, that I didn't know shit about her. She had a helluva bad time with her mom I think. She also told me I wasn't ready to be a father."

Sam took a sharp intake of breath.

"Baby, it's not like that," he said, "But I think she might be right. Takes a Flack…"

"…To know a Flack," finished Sam, "You going to explain what you mean by that?"

Don took a deep intake of breath.

"It's this whole thing with Dad," he explained, "About how he was with Mom, about how I am with you sometimes. Sometimes I think I'm just like him."

Sam stroked his stomach.

"Baby, you are not your father," she said.

"I don't know about that," Don replied a little bitterly, "I mean, let's face it Sammie, I love the job just as much as him, you complain _a lot_ about how I like to control your every move, just like he did Mom."

Sam was silent. She couldn't really argue with that.

"We all know Dad likes a drink," continued Don, "He used to like it a little too much to be honest and he used to come home and beat on Mom. He used to hit me pretty hard too, when I got in his way."

Sam squeezed his fingers. She knew things hadn't been great between her husband and his father, but he'd never really opened up like this to her before.

"It's not that I don't want the baby Sammie," he said, "I really, really want the baby. I want us to be a family more than anything. I'm just….." his voice tailed off, as he tried to find the right word.

"Scared?" Sam suggested. His fingers tightened around her almost painfully.

"Yeah," he said roughly, "But that's not all Sammie, you don't know what I did, to Dad."

Don shifted so that he was lying with his head below hers in the bed. She reached up to stroke the back of his head, playing with his short hair.

"What did you do baby?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"It was right before I joined the Academy," he said, "Dad came home late after a shift one night. He'd had way too much to drink again, a bad day on patrol I guess. Mom was in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner and he just went for her. I was in my room, I heard her screaming and I came down the stairs. She only screamed that way when Dad was off on one."

He took a deep breath.

"I came down and he'd already hit her a couple of times and she was on the floor, by the kitchen units, with her arm up to stop any more blows, but he still had a fist raised, like he was going to hit her again and…and…and I just saw red Sammie, I just lost it."

"I hit him and kept on hitting him and you know what? I still remember how excited it made me feel. To be beating the crap out of him. And to feel that good about something like that? It makes me feel sick Sammie, sick."

Sam gently shushed him, hearing the raw emotion building in his voice.

"It's OK Donnie," she said, "It was a long time ago."

"You don't understand!" he shouted, "I'm just like him – because of that, the way doing that made me feel. Every day I feel like I'm becoming more like him, like Dad. I like my drinks with the boys too much, I like taking the perps down too much and I still remember what it was like to do that to my Dad!"

"But he's changed right?" Sam asked, "You told me a long time ago that he changed. Was it because of that night?"

"Yeah," Don said roughly, "I know for a fact that he never raised a hand to my mother again and he has never got that drunk again. Jimmy sorted him out a lot."

He took a deep breath.

"I walked out of the house the next day and went to stay with my grandpa," Don finished, "I haven't spent the night at their house since. Then I joined the Academy a few weeks later and you know the rest."

Sam closed her arms around him as he turned and buried his face into her shoulder, holding onto her with a vice like grip. Don had never opened up to her like this before. And she could feel wetness on her shoulder and she realized her husband was crying.

"It's OK baby," she said, "You're not your father and you'll never be him, OK? You're going to be a great dad to our baby, to all our babies."

And they lay there like that, in the darkness, until they both fell asleep.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

"I hated them," said Anna, pulling the collar of her jacket up higher, even though it wasn't cold.

She and Adam were on Far Rockaway Beach, where he was proving to her that New York City did, in fact, have everything you could ever want within spitting distance, including beaches. It was the latest in a long line of day trips. They'd ridden the Staten Island Ferry, played chopsticks on the giant piano board at FAO Schwartz, been on the rollercoaster at Coney Island. He was getting to know her a whole lot better.

He went to put an arm around her shoulders.

"Don't touch me!" she said, pushing him away, before burying her hands in her face,

"I'm sorry," she said, "I just don't really do physical contact that well."

"What do you mean, you hated them?" asked Adam, "Who did you hate?"

Anna took a deep breath.

"I hated my father and Jimmy," she said, "Because every time I came here, I thought they would never send me back to her, to my mother, but they always did."

The wind blew the hair away from her neck, revealing the Chinese symbol of the snake tattooed on the nape, as she'd told Adam, it represented the year of her birth. 1977.

"That's understandable," said Adam, "I know I feel the same about the cops that always took me and Sam back to our parents."

Anna laughed, a cold little laugh.

"I hated my brothers and sister too," she said, "Because they were happy and they had Dad. He loved them more. They had him all the time and I just got to see him on borrowed time, during the summer."

Adam was silent. He didn't know much about his brother-in-law's childhood, but he knew enough that it hadn't been pretty. Out of the three Flack kids, Don was the one that was most together.

"My mother was an evil bitch," declared Anna, "She told me over and over how useless I was, how I'd ruined her life and she hated me for it. The whole time I was this reminder of how stupid she had been that summer and how I had wrecked her future."

"What about your grandparents?" Adam asked.

"They didn't care," said Anna, "They were always quiet and disapproving. I was this dirty secret they tried to pretend didn't exist." Anna shrugged her shoulders.

"I used to spend a lot of time reading. The first time anyone actually said anything nice to me was when Jimmy and Marie collected me at JFK and Marie gave me this huge hug and told me how happy she was I'd come to visit them. I had more fun coloring in coloring books perched on a bar stool than I ever had with the rest of the family. And I loved spending time with DD. It's just that," she threw her hands up, "A part-time dad is hard for a kid to understand, you know?"

Adam nodded. Until he and Sam had been swept into Clint Chambers, aka The Sarge, family, they'd had a similar experience. The only respite before that had been occasional visits to family members, which Sam remembered more than he did.

"I mean, I understand now," said Anna, "I do. They thought that what they were doing was for the best and I guess they didn't really know the whole of it. Otherwise there's no way in hell that Jimmy and Marie would ever have put me back on a plane to Ireland."

She took a deep breath and unbuttoned her jacket, swiftly removing her t-shirt next, revealing the vest underneath. But it wasn't the vest he was looking at.

Anna had tattoos – a biohazard sign on her upper arm, more Chinese symbols on her back, but here and there, in several different places, were the scars of old cigarette burns. Someone had used Anna as an ashtray. On more than one occasion.

Adam took a deep breath and rolled up one pant leg to reveal the scars he'd got at the hands of his father; the burns he'd received being dunked into boiling water. The burns that had taken forever to heal.

Anna gasped. The scars were horrific.

"That's not all," he said, lifting the back of his t-shirt to reveal faint lines, the scars from another beating. Ones that Sammie had carefully tended to over the course of several days that she had cleaned and bandaged. Sam had taken good care of her Peanut.

Adam put his large hand on the back of Anna's neck.

"It's OK Anna," he said, "I know."

And she'd cried then, on the isolated beach, letting Adam see the scared and hurt little girl behind all the Flack bravado: The angry and frustrated child who had been too scared to scream, to tell other people about what was going on at home.

He stood and held out his hand, helping her to her feet, before pulling her to him, holding her against his comforting bulk, his arms around her. He held her for a long time, in a close embrace, until her shaking subsided. He kissed her forehead, before she rested her head on his shoulder. And they stood there, the two of them, on the isolated beach, for what seemed like the longest time.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Sam bent over some DNA evidence she was processing in Trace, occasionally straightening up and rubbing the small of her back, where her advancing pregnancy was putting stress on the vertebrae and causing some pain now that she was into her sixth month.

She was taken aback by the sudden appearance of Adam. He grabbed her upper arm and steered her towards the break area.

"Peanut!" she shrieked, "What the hell are you doing!"

"We need to talk," he said firmly, "About Anna."

They came to a stop and Sam turned, folding her arms and glaring at her younger brother.

"What about Anna?" she asked, "What do you know Adam?"

Adam dropped his head, suddenly finding his feet very interesting.

"I know some stuff," he admitted, "About what happened to her as a kid. She…she… stuff happened to her Sammie."

Sam looked her brother in the eye.

"Stuff?" she asked, "What kind of stuff? Childhood accidents or…"

"…Or being used as an ashtray?" finished Adam, "the broken bones from falling off a bike she never owned? The black eyes from walking into doors? The bruises from "falling"? Yeah Sam, that kind of stuff."

Sam staggered backwards and sat down heavily on a chair by the kitchen counter. There was no way in hell any of them could ever have imagined this. And she had no idea how Don was going to react when he found out. Or his father for that matter. Not that it would do any good now Anna was an adult and her mother was dead. She looked up at Adam, standing there running his hand through his unruly hair, as he often did when he was nervous.

"I'm guessing she didn't just spill all of this out after your trip to the cinema a few weeks ago?" she said.

Adam looked a little sheepish.

"I've, uh, well that is, er I've been seeing a bit of Anna," he said, "Showing her NYC from a resident's perspective.

Sam smiled, one that widened rapidly as she considered her baby brother, all grown up in front of her.

"Has anyone told you you're an amazing man Adam Ross?" she asked.

Adam blushed a little before walking to her and throwing an arm around her shoulder.

"It's just how I roll," he affirmed.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

**That last line is especially for a couple of friends of mine, one in particular, who've been having a hard time recently. Thanks for dropping by and looking this up. I hope I've done the characters justice! It was a really, really hard chapter to write without going overboard…**

**Please R&R folks! Thank you please.**


	8. Chapter 8

**The Wrong Side – Intermission!**

**Disclaimer: CBS owns the original characters; I just play with them. Brown Eyed Girl 75 is the originator of Samantha Ross-Flack (and offspring) and I own the Malloy family.**

This is just a quick little thing to tell you all that Jozzer99 has very kindly made me the most awesome trailer for **The Wrong Side** in the whole wide world.

Get on over to You Tube. Search for **jozzanne99** and you'll find (surprise surprise) a new trailer video called **The Wrong Side**. The actual web link is:

**.com/watch?v=8jgJjzIH8fE**

**or www(dot)youtube(dot)com(forward slash)watch?v=****8jgJjzIH8fE** ** (insert dots and slashes as directed!)**

Honey, I will have all your babies for you I am that chuffed and awed!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8 – There She Goes**

**I would just like to say thanks to everyone who re-added this story (sorry if I haven't caught up with you in a PM to tell you LOL, but life has been a bit mental, what with the migraines, the neck pain, the back pain, the moving house, the rotten ex-roommate, the essay, the exam, the third year work, placement…. You all get the idea I'm sure).**

**This chapter is in no small way dedicated to a dear, dear friend who is going through a terrible time right now, and it is also dedicated to her partner, CCS, a source of endless writing support to both of us, good times and bad. RIP my dear. Enjoy the hockey at the great ice rink in the sky.**

**Can I also say that despite all the best laid plans, the muse refused point blank to co-operate with this chapter? After leading me astray on what was going in it, she then decided to screw up the opener at the last minute, but I think I got her wrestled into submission now…..**

**And this is for everyone who reviewed the original post and suspected that a certain blonde receptionist was up to no good – thanks for the rocking idea and I hope you like the end of the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the original characters I created. Some were nicked off BEG 75 and all the others (who you should know by now) belong to CBS…**

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Adam Ross woke up with the distinct sense that there was something very, very wrong. It took him a few good attempts to open his eyes without the sense that his head would explode.

Light poured into the downtown apartment he had once briefly shared with his sister, but which now had been restored to a normal, male centric environment, with his own unique filing system and piles of whatever everywhere.

Wiping his hand across his face, he slowly opened his eyes. At least, he thought, he was in his own bedroom and, gingerly checking beside him, he was also alone. So that was a marginally good start to the day. After a brief moment of panic, he also realized it was also one of his days off and he didn't have to go into work, or call in sick. Sitting himself upright on the edge of the bed, he stretched and yawned, before wandering through to the living area and kitchen.

And stopped dead in the doorway.

There, dead to the world, asleep on his couch, a blanket thrown over her, lay Anna. She was lying on her front in what looked to be a really uncomfortable position, looking for al the world like she had been sitting on her knees then simply slumped forward, so they were underneath her, her ass pointing towards the ceiling. Her face was turned towards him, mouth slightly open, head on a cushion and her arm was flung over the edge of the seat. She was snoring slightly, blowing bubbles like a baby. The over-turned bottle of tequila and two glasses on the floor told their own story.

At least, thought Adam, he could see she was wearing some clothes, recognizing the t-shirt she wore as one of his.

He had some pretty dim memories of the previous night, it had to be said, although he was pretty sure he'd gotten an excited call from Anna, which had been a babble of excitement. He'd eventually gotten out of her that she now had a new cell and it was an iPhone and she was all excited about it. Could he come over to Malloy's and help her download some cool apps onto it?

So being the gentleman he was, he'd gone over there and picked her up. They'd grabbed some slices on the way and then they'd spent the evening at his place, where Adam had fiddled with her cell to his heart's content and they'd watched some Farscape until the small hours.

Adam wasn't sure who'd found the tequila under the sink, but he was suspicious it was probably Anna. Things had gone downhill then, the apps they loaded onto each other's iPhones getting sillier by the second.

A snort drew his attention back to the now, and he watched as Anna wiped her hand across her nose, it twitching as she wiped and then her eyes slowly opened. She blinked a couple of times, before sitting up. Much to Adam's disgust, she looked no worse the wear for the night before. In fact, she looked like she'd gotten a good ten hours except, thought Adam checking his watch, it had only been more like five. She beamed at him.

Adam groaned and made his way to the kitchen counter, turning on the faucet and filling a glass with water. He downed it quickly, before fixing another and opening a drawer and rifling through it until he found some Tylenol 3. Snagging a couple from the foil, he swallowed them quickly, before waving the pack in Anna's direction. She shook her head and stood up, coming through to join him. Apparently she had found his favourite Fraggle Rock t-shirt and a clean pair of his boxer shorts to sleep in. Adam averted his eyes from her long, long legs. sAfter searching for a couple of minutes, she found some coffee grains and filled the coffee machine.

"Aren't we feeling so good Geek?" she asked. Adam looked at her, amazed.

"Please tell me you feel just the smallest bit the worse for wear?" he said, "I mean you had way more than I did to drink last night!"

Anna grinned.

"Ross, boyo," she said, "One, I'm Irish, two, I work behind a bar. Now the first would have me able to consume my own weight in alcohol on its own merit, but the second means I have an indestructible liver. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to get involved in drinking competitions with bar staff?"

Adam shook his head. Anna reached across him, making him shiver a little as her arm made contact with his skin. She opened the bread bin, snagged some slices of bread and dumped them in the toaster.

"Word to the wise Geek," she said, "Beware of bar staff out on the piss. And do not challenge any of them, especially the tiny, skinny girls, to a drinking competition of any description. They'll have you under the table before you can say Jack Daniels. And that's definitely the little girls. They can drink more than their own weight in alcohol and still be standing."

The toaster popped and Anna snagged the toast right out of it, buttering it thickly with some butter from the refrigerator. She offered a slice to Adam, who went a little green and shook his head.

"I'll just stick with the coffee," he said, opening the door to the refrigerator and pulling out a carton of OJ. He sniffed cautiously at it, before pouring himself a glass, "And this," he finished. He chugged the juice, feeling a little more human. He watched Anna pour herself a large mug of coffee, dumping two sugars into it.

"Geek, do you have such a thing as a clean towel?" asked Anna, walking towards his bedroom. Adam's mouth went dry.

"I, uh, I errr, I'm not sure," he said, "Why?"

Anna poked her head back from behind the now partially closed bedroom door.

"Because, you moron," she said slowly, "I am planning on taking a shower."

Adam took a long time to close his mouth. And it took an even longer time for him to wrestle images of Anna in the shower out of his mind.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Sam Flack frowned as she browsed through the Star Wars figurines, dating from the 80s and all still in their original packaging. She had promised herself that once the money from Zack came through, she was going to get him something other than paying off his student loans.

So here she was, in Sullivan Street, having made no small amount of phone calls trying to track down something she knew her brother had a long term wish for. When they'd been kids, all she'd wanted was a Millenium Falcon and a host of figures to go with it. She'd never gotten it, of course, not until her uncle had bought her a Princess Leia figure when the _Return of the Jedi_ had come out. Being the good girl she was, she'd pretty much given it to Adam straight away. He'd been barely three and so excited to get something, anything, that he'd fallen in love with it right then and there. Sam knew for a fact he still had that damned figurine, scratched and dirty now, but still in his tin of treasures. They'd caught all three of the early films on TV over the years and Adam had them all on DVD, in various formats. He even had the original films on VHS, without the new special effects and he refused to get rid of them.

Sam just wasn't sure which ones he would want. With a sigh (and slightly widened eyes at the price tags on some of them), she picked up the small packages and dumped them in her basket. She picked up a box, with an AT-ST in it, frowning as she read the back and something, correction _someone_ moved into her eyeline at the end of the aisle.

A familiar figure. Long dark hair, bent down, rummaging through the _Star Trek_ section, a pile of packages at her feet. Sam grinned and waddled her way over to her sister-in-law as fast as her baby bump would let her. She tapped an engrossed Anna on the shoulder.

Anna's head jerked upwards, banging into the shelf above. Anna swore, as she brought her hand to the sore spot, rubbing it. She glanced at the figure who'd caused the accident and smiled sheepishly. Sam smiled at her.

"Sorry," she said, "It seems to be a genetic flaw of mine, causing Flacks personal bodily harm."

Sam pulled the taller woman into a hug, feeling Anna stiffen at first, then slowly relax and return the embrace.

"I meant to call you!" they both began, before giggling. Sam gestured to the pile of packages at Anna's feet.

"Shopping for necessities?" she asked. Anna grinned, before her eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the site of another package on another shelf. She grabbed it gleefully.

"Excellent!" she exclaimed, waving the plastic pack in the air, "A replica communicator and phase pistol from the original series design!"

Sam looked at Anna as though she wasn't quite sure she'd heard her right.

"Why would you want one of those things?" Sam asked. Then she caught sight of the blue science uniform for men and the red female outfit at her feet. Anna blushed.

"They're, well, sort of a birthday and thank you present for someone," she stammered.

The truth dawned on Sam and she grinned widely.

"For my baby brother?" she asked. Anna blushed redder.

"Maybe," she mumbled, stuffing everything into her arms. Sam waved her basket at her.

"You're not the only one shopping for Peanut," she declared, "Now let's get out of this geek hell and get something to eat. Your brother's demon child is demanding something to eat."

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Sam and Anna sat opposite each other in the Cubana Café, over on Thomson, Sam settling for a burrito she suspected would come back to haunt her and Anna for a steak sandwich, each of them drinking a _batido_ of different flavor. Anna was a little quiet, looking at her hands as she nervously shredded a paper napkin. Sam reached out and grabbed one of her hands.

"It's OK Anna," she said, "I'm not mad at you and neither is Don. To be honest, he's been trying to figure out a reason to call you. He's just not good at this apologizing thing or admitting when someone else is right."

Anna smiled wrily.

"And I haven't had two seconds with work and what not to call you and ask you just how much time you've been spending with Peanut."

Anna grinned a little sheepishly.

"And then I happen to find you in a Sci-Fi store buying him gifts, although," she said, eyeing the red dress uniform poking out the top of the large shopping bag, "I'm not so sure that red's his color, or that his legs are good enough to be on show."

"That's for me," said Anna, stuffing the offending package back into the bag, "He mentioned there's a convention in town next month and asked me if I wanted to go." Anna shrugged her shoulders, "Plus I always wanted one of these things. It's his birthday soon. I wanted to do something nice for him. He's been really great."

"So I hear," said Sam, sipping her drink, "He told me some things. He probably shouldn't have."

"It's OK," said Anna, "I told him he could tell you if he wanted. I know you guys are close."

"I was more surprised by the fact he showed you some of his scars," said Sam, setting down her glass and looking Anna levelly in the eye, "To my knowledge he's never done that willingly before. In fact, his ex, Kendall, used to complain he preferred the lights off and t-shirt on in the bedroom." Sam grinned, "So I'd say Peanut must really like you."

Anna squirmed a little in her chair. Sam reached out and took her hand again.

"It's OK," she said, "I'm not bothered. I love my brother and we Rosses seem to have a thing for Flacks apparently. I'm just not sure how the two desperadoes are going to take it."

Anna looked puzzled at Sam's comment.

"Your brother and your father," clarified Sam, as the waitress arrived with their order. Sam noticed the determined glint in her sister-in-law's eye.

"If either of those idiots tries to say anything to me about who I can and cannot date, there will be some serious trouble."

Then she picked up the over-sized sandwich and took a massive bite out of it, effectively pausing any more conversation. Sam smiled to herself. She didn't know who she felt more sorry for. Her brother, who was obviously falling for the engaging Irish woman, or her husband and father-in-law, who were in for trouble if they tried to tell the woman in front of her what to do.

She wasn't worried about Anna. Oh no. It was patently obvious she could take care of herself. And had damned good taste in men, even if she was a _little_ biased.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Don knew when he'd been summoned to the Flack family residence. It had been one of Patricia Flack's short-and-to-the-point calls.

"Get over here," she'd said to her son, "And don't bring Sam."

His mother hadn't elaborated as to why she wanted her younger son to come over, only intimating that she wanted him to get over there _right now_.

Don had sighed, kissed his wife, slapped his Mets cap on his head and headed out the door to the car. It took him some time to get to his parents' house in Queens, but when he pulled up on the street, he'd spotted Mel's Camaro parked at an odd angle and he sent a silent curse heavenwards.

Great, he thought, just great; the prodigal daughter returns to the fold.

He quickly strode up the path and steps to the front door and opened it. He could hear the shouting from the front porch. Senior and Mel were going at it full blast, his dad's face bright red and Mel was obviously drunk again, judging from her swaying and slurring of words. Patricia stood there, arms folded, watching husband and daughter have it out. Don sidled up to his mother.

"They been at it long?" he asked quietly. Patricia sighed heavily.

"Since she got here, right about when I called you," she replied.

"What's it about this time?" he asked.

"Mel's in trouble again," his mother replied, "She wants him to bail her out again. She spent her rent money on booze I think and your father isn't having any of it."

Just as Mel launched into yet another tirade of how life was so unfair, the front door quietly opened again and Anna walked in. Hearing the sound of the hinges creak, Mel spun round, eyes narrowing as she realized who the woman was.

"So," she drawled, "This is the little bastard then."

Anna flushed a high color and made a move to walk over to Patricia and Don. Mel got in front of her and poked her finger in Anna's chest. Mel was so close Anna could smell the booze off of her breath. Anna took a deep breath.

"Don't you run to them!" said Mel, "Don't you dare try and turn them against me! I'm their daughter and sister, not you!"

"I think," said Anna, "That you've managed to turn everyone against you all by yourself."

Mel's eyes narrowed and she shoved her face right into Anna's.

"You'll never be one of us," she hissed, "You're not a Flack, you never will be. You're just the result of some one night fuck my dad had when he was drunk."

"Mel!" exclaimed Patricia, making a move towards her daughter, "How dare you speak to Anna like that!"

"I'll speak to this bitch any way I like!" spat Mel, before turning back to face Anna.

But Anna had had enough. Her eyes flashed and she slapped Mel hard across the face. Mel stepped back shocked.

"Mom!" Mel cried, "Dad! Donnie – did you see what she did?"

"You provoked her," said Patricia wearily, "And how dare you call your sister those names?"

"She's not my sister!" shouted Mel, "She is NOT my sister! Stop calling her that! Donnie – she's not our sister, please bro?" she almost begged, "Say she isn't our sister…." Mel's voice trailed off as she saw the stony look on Don's face and his crossed arms.

"Well," he said after a pause, "She looks like us, she talks like us, she actually gets along with my wife and friends and she's not drunk all the time. I'm proud to call her my sister."

Mel's mouth was open, speechless. She turned to her father, turning on the tears.

"Daddy," she begged, pathetically, "Please tell me I'm still your little girl. Don't take her side too! This is all her fault. I got drunk because I'm so upset about all this."

Don senior glared at his youngest daughter.

"You got drunk Melanie," he said finally, "Because you drink. Stop blaming everyone else for all your problems. Anna is worth ten of you, easily."

Mel's face hardened.

"I might have known you'd all take her side," she said nastily, "Well that's just fine, keep her then."

She grabbed her over-sized bag and stalked over to the front door, slamming it closed. Anna winced at the sound. Patricia put her hand to her mouth and turned and rushed into the kitchen. Don senior followed her with an apologetic look at his children.

Anna turned and fled.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Don found her sitting on the front porch steps, much like he, Chris and Mel had done as kids, when their father had come home drunk and they'd huddled together, summer or winter, rain or shine, waiting for him to calm down or pass out, whichever came first. Anna had pulled her jacket around her against the light chill of the Fall air. Don sat down beside her and handed her an over-sized mug of coffee. Anna took it form him.

"Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome," he replied.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their coffee.

"Mom told me you take your brew like me and Dad," Don said finally.

"Yeah," Anna smiled, "Isn't that weird? The three of us taking it black with two?"

"Yep," said Don, "Not that I can drink it like that at home right now. I had to hide the sugar from Sam."

Anna looked at her brother, puzzled.

"Gestational diabetes," he explained, "Well, we're trying to avoid it. Sammie calls me the sugar nazi. It's like having to take candy from a little kid." He sighed.

Anna smiled at the thought of Don holding candy or ice cream firmly out of reach of his tiny, pregnant wife.

"I'm sure she's getting her fix somewhere though," he said, "I bet Messer and some of the others are aiding and abetting her addiction. I can't watch her 24-7."

Anna laughed, then frowned.

"I'm really sorry Don," she said. Don looked at his sister.

"What for?" he asked.

"That whole thing with Mel," explained Anna, "And I really shouldn't have hit her. I let her get to me."

Don snorted.

"Don't apologize. Mel was out of order," he said, "She usually is. She comes over like that at least once a month when her rent is due, usually cause she's lost whatever low rent job she has and can't pay the rent and there's always a scene. She went to the Lab once, to ask Sammie for money, right after her ex's inheritance came in and Sammie blew her off. Because I'd told her to."

Don shook his head at the memory.

"Mel keeps on saying that Sammie's turned me against her, turned everyone against her."

"Oh Don, I'm so sorry," said Anna, laying her hand on his arm.

"I guess you know yourself," he said, "That there's no reasoning with people like Mel, with alcoholics. Just forget what she said. None of that is true and Mel's just jealous of you. She's always jealous of everyone else."

"She _is_ my sister," said Anna thoughtfully, "I had to meet her sometime. I'm just sorry she seems so… so… troubled."

Don snorted again.

"Troubled? More like trouble, plain and simple."

They sat silently again, drinking their coffee.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

"I'm sorry," said Anna finally. Don looked at her puzzled.

"What for?"

"What I said to you at Sullivans. I-I – I was out of order. I shouldn't have said any of those things."

"No," said Don slowly, "You were right, more than you know. About all of it." He smiled uncomfortably. "Sammie said it took a Flack to know a Flack and I think she might have been right. I'm the one who should apologize to you. I wasn't thinking about how you might be feeling about all of this. That you might not be ready for all this. I was an insensitive asshole, as my wife has been telling me ten times a day since all this happened."

Anna grinned.

"I know," she said, "I ran into her last week while I was out shopping."

Don just looked at her. His "I'm not impressed look". Anna giggled. Don sighed.

"I know," he said, "She found you in a geek grocery store, apparently, buying out all of their _Star Trek_ stock."

Anna snorted with laughter.

"I was on a mission," she said, "It was a present for someone."

Don raised his eyebrows.

"That's not what I heard," he said, "Sammie mentioned a Uhura outfit lacking in the skirt department. You want to tell me who have to beat up for getting my sister to do some weird sci-fi kinky shit in the bedroom?"

"Keep your hair on, brother dear," said Anna, patting his forearm, "There's nothing of that ilk for you to worry about. Yet."

"You do know I'm just going to tell Dad, right?" he said, gesturing to the house.

"You wouldn't dare!" squealed Anna, thumping him on the arm. Don grinned and pulled her into a one armed hug, kissing her on her temple.

"So sis," he said, "How do you feel about calling Mom mom?"

And the two of them laughed and chatted away as the sun went down over Queens, finally picking up their cups and going back inside as the lights in the front room went on.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Don walked into total chaos in Sullivans. It was a packed Friday night, post shift and most of the precinct and the lab's staff was in there. He could see Sammie and Lindsay sitting at a table, both of them helpless with laughter. A few seconds later, he saw the reason. Anna and Adam, one in her thirties, the other in his late twenties, were having some sort of mock fight with what looked to be… yeah… cell phones? They were dancing around, dodging each other, customers, bar furniture. As Don approached the table, wincing in anticipation of the ribbing he was going to get from his colleagues later, he could hear what they were doing.

He was damned if their damned iPhones weren't making, what was it _lightsabre_ sounds? Oh no fucking way. Please god no, he thought. But no, there the two of them were like kids.

"Hmmmm," said Adam, "The force is strong in this one," before making a sound that was apparently supposed to be Darth Vader, but sounded more like porno heavy breathing.

"You'll never get your way," yelled Anna, "I will never turn to the Dark Side!"

Don rolled his eyes heavenward. Jesus no, he thought. And then, just as he thought it might all be over, Adam and Anna swung their phones around a little more before Adam stopped and stood dramatically, as Anna tripped over a stool and dropped to her knees.

"Luke," said Adam dramatically, "Luke, _I_ am your father!"

That was it, Sam and Lindsay dissolved into helpless laughter as most of the onlookers (which was most of the bar) roared with laughter at the antics of the younger Ross and Flack's sister. They took mock little bows before sitting down at the table. Don loosened his tie and glared at them, before he walked over to the bar to join Danny, who passed him a pint of the black stuff.

"So," said Danny, earning himself a glare.

"So what?" said Don, taking a sip.

"Your sister, a Flack, a geek."

"Yeah, and?" said Don.

"Getting it on with Adam huh?" said Danny cheekily, taking a mouthful of his JD and coke.

Don's hand tightened around his glass.

"Ross is _not_ getting it on with my sister," he said, "They're just friends. He's being a good guy is all."

"Yeah right," said Danny, "And you and Brooklyn have a purely platonic relationship. I tell you Crimestopper, if they ain't together by now, they soon will be. You Flacks and Rosses are like iron filings and magnets. Can't keep you apart."

Don sighed and shook his head. He wasn't even sure if he was that bothered by the idea. He glanced back over to the table where they were all sitting. Anna was telling them something, her hands moving in animation, positively glowing. Adam was watching her with a strange look, almost of wonder on his face, grinning at points, totally absorbed in her. Every now and then, Anna would catch his eye and smile. He spotted Sam and Lindsay sharing a knowing glance. Then his wife giving him a surreptitious thumbs up.

Don sighed again. Apparently the world thought it was a great idea.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Over at the table, the group was talking about lots of things. Lindsay was amused by the fact that Anna was such a sci-fi fantasy fan.

"Flack can't like that much," Lindsay said, "You being a bit of a nerd."

"Oh definitely not," said Anna, "He keeps checking for geek DNA and he told me it's all my mother's side and not his. Apparently no self-respecting Flack is into cult shows or sci-fi. I actually got into it all in art college."

"Art college?" said Sam, "You were at Art College?"

"Yeah," said Anna, taking a sip from her pint of Guinness, "I was into doing my own cartoons and things so I took graphic drawing and photography courses. I've actually had some work picked up by Marvel and DC. Just little things."

"Wow," said Adam, in no small amount of awe, "That is just so cool."

Anna smiled at him.

"Well thank you very much," she replied, a little shyly.

Sam stood up, stretching, showing off the t-shirt she was wearing, with Jerry the mouse eating an ice-cream cone on it, the caption reading "Yummy Mommy".

"Unfortunately your brother wasn't much into the comics," she said, edging her way round the table, "He was more of a Tom and Jerry fan. I'll be right back. Junior is kicking my bladder again." Sam rubbed her belly. "There is no way I am going to full term with this," she muttered, waddling off towards the rest rooms in the back of the bar.

"At least he had some taste," said Adam.

"Yeah," said Anna, "Could have been Duckula."

They dissolved into laughter again.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

It was about twenty minutes or so later when Don was assailed by the strong scent of truly cheap perfume in his nostrils. Fighting the urge to sneeze, he glanced to his side, to see Stephanie, the Police plaza receptionist, standing beside him, twirling a piece of blonde hair in her fingers, looking at him with what Don supposed was a come hither look. He groaned inwardly. A movement to his right confirmed that Danny, a wide and amused grin on his face, was leaving him to his gruesome fate; dealing with the state-sized crush one of Manhattan's Maneaters had on him.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Over at the table, Danny placed a number of glasses in front of the group, making a face as Anna grabbed her half-pint of the dark stuff with glee.

"How you can drink that stuff Malloy, I will never know," he said.

"It's good for you," she said, "And may I ask why you call me Malloy?"

"Well," said Danny, pulling up another stool to the table, sitting beside Lindsay, "It's your name and I distinctly remember you threatening to kick my ass if I called you from where you were from, although Ireland has a bit of a ring to it, now I come to think of it."

Anna put her head on one side, considering it.

"I like it," she said, "But why did you call me Malloy?"

"Well we only ever call Flack Flack," he said, "And you _are_ the female Flack, even if not by name. I figured it was appropriate." Danny took a swig of his drink, winking at her. Anna grinned back.

"Ireland it is," she said, raising her glass to him, "I can live with that. Now where is my brother? Where did you abandon him?"

"At the bar," said Danny indicating to where Don was by now trying to unwind Stephanie's arms from around his neck, "I thought it might be funny to watch him deal with her. She has a major thing for him."

Anna glanced at Sam, sitting beside her, who had stiffened at the sight of the bleach blonde making the moves on her husband in public. She was visibly fuming. Anna sighed.

"Funny for you Staten Island," she said, "But not so funny for the wife?"

Danny glanced at Sam and blanched.

"Shit Brooklyn," he said, "Sorry – I wasn't thinking, I'll go deal with it; rescue your hero." He made a move to stand. Anna got to her feet.

"No," she said, "Please allow me. I owe that bitch one for a few weeks ago."

The table watched as Anna got to her feet and made her way to the bar. Don had just succeeded in getting Stephanie's hands from around his neck when the blonde felt a tap on her shoulder. She frowned and turned to see Anna standing there with a nasty glint in her eye.

Anna looked the blonde up and down, from her far too low-cut top, which showed off far too much of her assets, to her too-short denim skirt, which clearly showed off her garter belt and the tops of her stockings. She wore high-heeled white shoes, which were scuffed and far too much make-up. Stephanie, a little the worse for wear, swayed slightly, before fixing Anna with a look of her own.

"Get your own man," she said, "I saw him first!"

"Ah," said Anna carefully, "Now we both know that's not true. He IS married. To that lovely woman over there," Anna pointed at their table, "And she and her brother happen to work for the Crime Lab."

Stephanie folded her arms.

"So?" she said belligerently, "She is fat and all, being knocked up, so maybe the detective needs some good loving from a pretty girl. But he has me, so take a hike."

"Firstly," said Anna, trying desperately not to laugh, "Detective Samantha Flack is not fat, she's pregnant. Secondly, I happen to know that Detective Donald Flack Jr adores his wife, no matter what her size. Thirdly, I'm not into incest with my brother – yeah he's my _brother_." Anna looked the woman up and down again before adding her parting shot; "And you? Pretty? On what continent? One with blind people for a population?"

Stephanie gasped and turned back to Don.

"Are you going to let her speak to me like that?" she exclaimed, noticing the off duty officers around her sniggering as they heard the exchange. Don smiled a little.

"Yeah," he said, "I am. And I'm going to mention this little incident to your supervisor on Monday as well."

Stephanie went white as she realized she had bitten off more than she could chew. Don leaned in.

"Now," he said, "I suggest you take a hike. Right outta Sully's."

Stephanie huffed and turned, staggering slightly as she lost her balance. Which was when Anna spotted the top of her thong panties peeking over the waistband of her miniskirt. Suddenly a wicked thought came into the Irish girl's head and she couldn't resist. She leaned forward as the other woman walked away, grabbed the undergarment and yanked upwards firmly, giving the annoying blonde what is known in the trade as a wedgie.

Stephanie squawked loudly, bringing her hands to her back and went over on one ankle. Her arms flailed as she tried desperately to regain her balance and ended up landing on a half-amused Tony Scagnetti, who was propping up the bar.

"Come on," he said, "Let's get you outta here before you cause anymore trouble tonight," winking at Anna and Don as he steered the receptionist out of the bar.

Don and Anna made their way back towards their table. Sam was grinning broadly and Danny was laughing and shaking his head. Lindsay and Adam were laughing into their hands helplessly. Danny raised his glass to Anna as she made a play of wiping her hands.

"A night out with the Flack family," he said, "Never a dull moment that's for sure!"

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

**Well that's all for now folks, hope you enjoyed it, especially you Dori, as I know you've been annoyed with Stephanie's antics up till now! Thanks for reading and please stop by and review on your way out!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9 – A Recipe for…**

**OK, first of all a disclaimer: What belongs to CBS, belongs to CBS. Equally, Sam Flack, Patricia, Mel, Chris and Slippers the cat all belong to BEG 75 and she is kindly and gratefully thanked for allowing me to use them. Anna Flack (or Malloy) on the other hand, is all mine.**

**Just a quick little thing for everyone. You are all aware on my policy regarding haters and flamers, right? Well given some news (and I checked this out or myself thank you) about some other writers getting hate and given the responses to my previous A/Ns, I have set up a forum (via the forums link on my page) regarding the development of some Rules of Good Conduct for all users, both readers and writers, on this site. Please check it out and feel free to comment or add anything you would also like to see. This is not compulsory, this is voluntary, but given the number of messages I have had from a number of people from all pairings and AU's today, this is not an unpopular. Thing.**

**To the persons (because it is persons) who are harassing a popular author on this site through a flame account (and you know who you are), I would just like to point out that your collective attack on this person through the review medium is out of order and frankly, telling people to fight their own battles when a group of you are bullying someone is REALLY not on. I'm sorry – it's not OK for other people to support someone but it's OK for you to organise a ganging up on someone? Please – take a long hard look at yourselves and GROW UP. Please go back to the Borg AU you live in and take your hate with you. You are not the CSI NY FF police and we can all see right through your attempt to remove a popular and well-written story from the site, just because you don't like it. If you can't say anything nice, just keep your nasty opinions to yourself, go back to the playground and let us creative people do our thing.**

**Thanks so much to BEG 75, who really helped me out with Adam and Anna here! And to Dori – who seems to love Adam as much as I do!**

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

"What do you mean I have to be here?" hissed Anna, peering round the edge of the maternity magazine she was pretending to read, "I'm not the one who's knocked up AND you didn't make Adam come with you!"

Sam smirked and smoothed the maternity top over her swollen stomach.

"Because I want you to see what your nephew looks like," she said, "Plus Don thought it would be as funny as hell to see the look on your face somewhere like this."

Her husband smirked from behind the newspaper he was reading.

"Donnie," said his sister, "You are a prize shit, do you know that?"

Don lifted the finger in his sister's direction without turning his attention from the page he was reading. Anna huffed loudly.

"And you're just as bad!" she hissed at Sam, before slamming the magazine back on the little side table by the chairs. She folded her arms and slouched down in her chair like a recaltricant teenager.

"It's so unfair!" she wailed, attracting attention from the other mommies-to-be and their partners in the waiting room.

"Oh how old are you?" asked Don, folding his paper up and looking at his sister, "Four? Cause I gotta tell you, you are making a real big deal over nothing here. I mean, I could have forced you to be Sam's birth partner instead of me and made you go to Lamaze class. I tell ya sis, those movies of the birth they make you watch? Not good."

Sam elbowed her husband in the ribs. "Hey!" exclaimed Don, "Watch with the vicious behaviour woman. I don't want to have to haul your ass down to Central Booking for assaulting an officer."

Sam glared at her husband.

"If you think I'm letting you get out of being in the room when our son has born you have another thing coming," she said through gritted teeth, "Especially seeing as this is _all your fault!_"

Don smirked and picked up one of the leaflets beside him, entitled _How Breastfeeding is great for baby and great for you._ He quickly put it back down again as the door to one of the consulting rooms opened and Sam's OB-GYN came out.

"Mrs Flack?" she called. Sam and Don stood. After a pointed look, grumbling slightly, Anna stood and followed them into the consulting room.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

"Well," said Dr Lightheart, snapping off her latex gloves and dumping them in the trash, "Everything's looking good. Baby is fine, there are no defects and he's going to be a fine-looking young man."

She gently smiled and looked over to the examining bed, where Don was helping Sam wipe the gel off of her belly from the 4-D sonogram. Anna was sitting by the desk, a printout of the scan in her hand, tracing her fingers over the clearly visible baby's features on the print. There was a look of awe on her face.

"Wow," she said, "I mean, just wow."

Sam grinned and swung her legs around so that she was sitting on the edge of the couch.

"Auntie Anna," she said, "Meet your nephew, Kieran Shaun Donald."

As she said that, the baby chose that moment to kick hard. Sam grabbed her sister-in-law's hand and placed it on her belly so that she could feel the baby's movements. Anna's lips parted slightly in a gesture of shock, her eyes wide as she felt the baby's feet against her hand. The OB-GYN smiled and gestured to the other two chairs by her desk.

"We have got a few more things to discuss," she said, "I think we need to talk about a time frame on ceasing any sexual activity."

Anna made a move to get up as Don blushed bright red.

"I think I'd better wait outside," said Anna.

"No, it's fine," Sam reassured her, taking Don's hand, "Isn't it Donnie?"

Donnie just glared at Sam by way of reply, causing her to laugh. The doctor cleared her throat.

"As I was saying," she continued, "Given the problems you had earlier in the pregnancy and the fact that Kieran _is_ a big baby at this point of gestation, you both really need to think about stopping intercourse sooner rather than later."

Anna squirmed. She didn't need to know details.

"I thought it would be during the eighth month," said Sam, "That we, uh, you know we'd have to stop."

"Normally that's true Sam," said the doctor, "But in this case you have had to have stitches to close the cervix and I'm a little concerned that anything excessive, from this point on, might cause them to rupture and bring on premature labor. And that wouldn't be good for either of you."

Sam paled a little and clutched Don's hand tighter. "Ok," she whispered.

Anna glanced over at them and suddenly couldn't stop herself from giggling. Despite his obvious concern, there was a distinctly put out look on Don's face. Hearing her laugh, he looked over at her and glared at her.

"I'm sorry," said Anna, gasping for air, "But you should see the look on your face Don. This soooo makes up for you guys dragging me here."

"What?" said Don, "What's so funny?"

Sam looked at the two of them, puzzled.

"You look like someone just took your favourite toy away bro," said Anna, "And told you you're not having it back till the end of the school year!"

On saying that she dissolved into laughter, clapping her hands over her mouth, tears pouring down her face. Two seconds later she was bent double, unable to stop the belly laugh escaping from her lips. Hearing a sound from by his side, Don looked to see Sam trying desperately to keep a straight face as well. He looked at her pointedly.

"It's true," said Sam, "That's exactly the look you've got on your face!"

The doctor cleared her throat.

"As I was saying," she said, smirking a little, "You really have to stop from the end of this week until at least after your six week check up."

"Uh, say again?" said Sam, her jaw dropping open, "You don't mean the six week check-up after the baby's born do you?"

Dr Lightheart looked at her.

"That's exactly what I mean," she said firmly.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

"Four months!" wailed Sam, as they walked through the hospital parking lot to their car, "Four months of no sex – there is no way I'm going to be able to go that long without it!"

Anna snorted. Sam glared at her.

"You wouldn't understand," she said, "You have no idea how damn good your brother is in bed."

"And I have no desire to find out," replied Anna, opening the rear door of the car, "There are some things siblings just shouldn't share." She climbed in and snapped on her seatbelt as Don helped Sam into the passenger seat. He hadn't said anything since the doctor's judgement.

"Are you OK with this Don?" asked Sam, "I mean _four months!"_

Don leaned over and kissed her temple, before helping her with the seatbelt.

"It's about keeping you and the baby safe and well till the delivery," he said, "So I'm fine with it."

He started the engine and pulled out of the parking space.

_Four months_, he thought. That was a whole lot of cold showers for sure.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

The only sound in the small bedroom was one of breathing returning to normal.

After dropping Anna off at Malloy's they'd come straight back to their apartment, only pausing while Flack had called to trade his on call off with Scagnetti. Then he'd taken her into the bedroom and told her if they were going to be on ice for four months, he was damn well going to make sure they had some good memories to keep them going until then. And, thought Sam, he was apparently equally determined to make sure they made the most out of every minute left in this week until their enforced period of abstinence came into play.

It wasn't that her husband wasn't gentle when he had to be – he was. Sam was sure he'd read every damn part of every damn pregnancy manual they had to try and make sure he knew exactly what positions were good for a pregnant woman and what he could and couldn't do and what not and for the most part it _was_ good. Better than good. It was just that it was becoming just too damn uncomfortable to make love to her husband, what with him being so big – in every way – and her being so tiny. Sam sighed a little.

She felt her husband shift on the mattress little and opened her eyes to see Don looking down at her, propped on one arm, a look of concern in his eyes.

"You OK baby?" he asked, brushing some sweat soaked strands of hair off her forehead. Sam reached over and patted his stomach.

"I'm fine Donnie, just a little, well, _spent_," she replied.

Don grinned, leaned over her and placed a small kiss on her lips. Sam frowned. Don pulled back and looked at her.

"What's up?" he asked, "And don't give me some shit about nothing, cause I can see on your face something's bothering you."

Sam reached out to trace the scars on his stomach with her fingers, smiling as she heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Four months is a long time Donnie," she said, "I mean it _is_ getting uncomfortable for me but…"

Picking up on what she wasn't saying, Don picked her hand up, brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers.

"You're worried that it's too long for me, aren't you?" he asked, "You wanna know if I'll be tempted to go elsewhere, like my Dad?"

Sam looked at him, worried she'd upset him. He brought his hand up to her face and stroked her cheek, before planting a small kiss on her temple.

"Trust me Tinks," he said, "It's never going to happen. I've gone longer than four months before now and that was without the most beautiful woman in the world sleeping beside me every night."

"But…" started Sam.

"But nothing," said Don, laying back down and pulling her into his arms, "We didn't go all the way for almost as long when we first got together. We both know there's more than one way to skin a cat."

On saying that, he sneezed. He lifted his head and groaned as he saw Slippers appear, pushing her way through the narrow gap the almost-closed bedroom door had left. As if on cue, the small animal, purring, jumped up on the bed, making her way up to Don's side, kneading the mattress beneath her paws as she settled down to sleep under his armpit. Sam giggled. Then she sat up carefully, trying to avoid an attack of vertigo from setting in. Don looked at her.

"Where the hell are you going?" he asked, watching as Sam stretched a little, admiring the graceful curve of her back and the lotus tattoo that stretched from one hip to the other.

"I felt a need to revisit the shower," she said simply, before standing and making her way to the bathroom.

It took Don a couple of minutes to figure out what she meant by that. Before he got up to join her…

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Adam was finding it hard to concentrate. It might have been the fact that Sam had just given him all the original _Star Wars_ figurines from the original episodes, or it might not. Oh hell, Adam knew full and fine well he had his mind firmly on someone else.

The someone who had smiled shyly at him last night at his birthday party and presented him with a totally awesome present. His very own _Star Trek_ uniform, communicator and phase pistol, from the original series. And then gone and topped even _that_ by presenting him with tickets for the Sci-Fi convention that was being held at MSG the next month. The certain someone he had asked to have dinner with him tomorrow night. Adam groaned. He was pretty sure they both knew that this was, in fact, a _date_, as opposed, say, to their usual nights out drinking, or seeing the town, or doing stupid ass things with their iPhones or gaming. Nope, this was in fact, a _date_ date.

And Adam was flat out terrified. Of what her brother and father were going to say. He was also more than a little embarrassed that Sam had been egging him on to do the deed for weeks. She liked Anna, she'd told him. And she knew full and fine well that _he_ liked Anna too. Then told him to stop being such a pussy and just go for it. Bending his head to look through the microscope at the evidence, he groaned again, this time getting the attention of Danny, working at the next station.

"Yo Ross," said Danny, "What's up with ya? The trace tryin' to confuse you?"

"No," said Adam, "I was just thinking about something."

"Uh huh," said Danny, "And this something wouldn't happen to have long, dark hair, long legs, about five eight or so and be closely related to New York's favorite Crimestopper would it?"

Adam blushed. Danny pushed his glasses further up onto his nose and walked over to Adam's station, folding his arms and leaning against it.

"So," he said, "What's up?"

At that moment, Stella happened to walk into the room and, glancing up from the folder she was reading, spotted the two men engaged in conversation. A broad smile on her face, she walked over to the two of them.

"Hey guys," she said, "Is this a conversation anyone can join in, or is it men only?"

Adam blushed again and tried to turn his attention back to the trace.

"Adam's got a thing for Flack's sister," explained Danny, "And he's obviously got something on his mind, but he won't let New York's former most eligible bachelor help him out."

Adam mumbled something under his breath. Neither could hear it, but it didn't sound very polite. Stella smiled widely and patted Adam's shoulders.

"Don't worry," she said, "It'll all work out. I recommend flowers and a nice bottle of wine."

"Is that how Mac finally got hooked up with you?" asked Danny, "Flowers and wine?"

Stella shot an unfriendly look at him.

"Mind your own business Messer," she said. Danny lifted his hands up in front of him as though to ward off potential blows.

"Don't get me wrong Stel," he said, "It's just that we all thought the two of ya would never see what was right under your noses. Glad we didn't have to lock you in a closet or something."

Stella sighed, rolled her eyes heavenward and turned her attention back to Adam.

"Flowers," she said, "Seriously." Adam shook his head.

"You know Flack's allergy to cats?" he said. They both nodded. "Allergies run in the Flack family apparently. Chris is lactose intolerant, Mel's allergic to dust and feathers and Anna is allergic to pollen. Suffers from horrific hay fever. Flowers are out." Then, head on one side, he realized something else. "And," he added, "She doesn't drink wine."

"So, she's a geek," said Danny, "Get her something that a geek would like. I mean they did those great shows like Doctor Who and Torchwood didn't they? And Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and what not."

Adam kept fairly silent at that point. He was fairly certain Don had not broadcasted the fact that he and Adam occasionally watched Doctor Who marathons on BBC America at his place. But suddenly an idea popped into his head as though a light went on. He bagged up the trace hastily and shut down his station.

"I've got it!" he said, "Thanks guys!"

And he raced out of the room.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

"So where are we going?" asked Anna, as she and Adam walked down Broadway.

"It's a surprise," he replied. Anna looked at him quizzically.

_So far, the night had gone pretty well, he thought. He'd picked Anna up at Malloy's and instead of presenting her with traditional flowers, that he knew she was allergic to, he presented her with a beautifully wrapped package, which, when she ripped the paper off it was found to contain a Marvin the Paranoid Android figure from the film a few years ago. Anna had beamed and kissed him on the cheek, racing upstairs to her room to leave it there before they went out. Adam had been acutely aware of the dual glares from Jimmy and Don Sr as he waited for her, fidgeting uncomfortably under their watchful eyes. Anna had suddenly reappeared, looking nice in a purple silk T-shirt, black jeans and boots and slung a black leather biker's jacket around her shoulders and shoved her purse and cell into the pockets._

"_Curfew's midnight," said Jimmy, causing him and Don Sr to snigger at his poor attempt at humor. Anna walked over to the bar and beckoned him to come closer to her, her eyes flashing._

"_Just for that, Uncle Jimmy, DD," she said, "I'm going to stay out all damn night. I am thirty one years old next birthday and I'm afraid that means I am not a little girl any more."_

_Don Sr cleared his throat. "Honey," he said, "Do I need to polish my shotgun?"_

"_Only if you're planning on having an irate daughter commit patricide Daddy," Anna said sweetly, before blowing the two men a kiss and dancing out of the door, a blushing Adam in tow._

Anna glanced at Adam, slightly worried.

"You're not worried about them are you?" she asked. Adam shook his head at first before nodding.

"Maybe a little," he admitted, "And of your brother."

Anna took his hand, curling her small one into Adam's much larger one. She smiled at him sweetly and stopped walking. Forced to stop with her, he was surprised when she stood on tip toe and kissed him chastely on the lips.

"Please don't be," she said, "They're all mouth and no action. They were just playing around with us. Now, where is this place you're taking me anyway?"

Momentarily stunned by the fact that Anna had just kissed him, it took a second for Adam to get his bearings and realize they were right outside the theater showing _Wicked_ on Broadway.

"Really?" squeaked Anna in excitement, "I mean, _really?_"

Adam nodded, grinning, as Anna started to jump up and down in excitement.

"Oh goody," she said, "I just _love_ musicals."

And taking his hand again, she dragged him inside.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Anna had loved every second of it, he thought, so it had been a great suggestion of Sam's to take her there. In fact, a great suggestion of Sam for him to just get a set and ask Anna out already.

The two of them had a quiet dinner in a diner on the way back to his place. Now, that he wasn't entirely sure about how _that_ happened. But Anna wanted to play _Guitar Hero_ and who was he to argue with a beautiful lady.

He fumbled at the door with the keys, cursing as they suddenly refused to fit into the right locks on his apartment door. Anna leaned against the wall at first, watching him, before she took the keys from him, opened the door and danced into the apartment ahead of him. All Adam could do was follow.

Anna headed for the refrigerator to find some beers as Adam picked his way through his mess to the TV and Wii station, switching them on, before rifling through a pile of magazines to find the guitar unit for the game. Anan watched him from the kitchen area.

"You know, Adam," she said, "This place is even more of a zoo than the last time I was here. How do you live like this?"

"I have a system," was Adam's reply, before finally his hand found what he was looking for. He brandished it in mid air with a triumphant grin.

"What system is that? Put it down and lose it forever?" said Anna, snorting a little.

Adam shrugged. "Works for me," he said.

"Fine," said Anna, walking to the couch and sitting down, "Just please don't tell me you have a system for your clothes as well, or I am never borrowing your t-shirts again."

"Well," replied Adam cheekily, "Now you come to mention it…."

His voice tailed off as Anna thumped him on the arm.

"Hey!" he said, warding her off, "I was only kidding!"

"You'd better have been," she said, with a grin on her face.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

After a couple of hours and a few stifled yawns, they finally called a halt to the game, opting instead to watch _The Matrix_ instead, Anna curling up against Adam comfortably, snuggling in as he put his arm around her shoulder.

Anna was the first to admit she wanted him to just do something. _Anything_. Just so she knew where she stood. He hadn't kissed her back on Broadway, so she wasn't sure if he even really liked her. She had thought he had, but now she wasn't so sure. Sneaking a glance at him, she noticed his eyes firmly fixed on the screen, his arm not moving. Biting her lip, she allowed her hand to move onto his chest, splaying her fingers open. Under the cotton of his t-shirt, she could feel the hard metallic shape of a _nipple ring_? Well wasn't that a surprise. She heard Adam take a light intake of breath, but he made no attempt to stop her hand from moving. Growing bolder, she let her fingers play with it a little, quickly glancing at his face, to see, with some satisfaction; Adam was biting his lip and trying not to react.

She sat up on her knees and looked at him thoughtfully. He looked right back at her, a mixture of anticipation and growing desire appearing in her eyes. Biting her own lip, she took the hem of her t-shirt and started to lift it upright.

Just as she got the hem almost to breast height, allowing Adam a view of the red, gauzy bra covering her breasts, making him swallow hard, Anna felt him grab her hands for a second.

Neither of them said anything. Anna looked at Adam, a perplexed and a little hurt look appearing in her eyes.

_OK_, she thought,_ that answers that question. He's just not that into me after all_.

She scrambled off the couch, jamming her shoes onto her feet, picking up her jacket.

"I need to go," she said, trying not to let Adam hear the catch in her throat, the lump growing that she knew meant some tears if she didn't get out of there.

"Anna…" he said, his voice tailing off, "Anna, wait."

She didn't listen. She just headed to the door as quickly as she could, tears starting to burn her eyes and blur her vision. She made it to the door, managed to get it open a few inches when…

…She felt someone come right up behind her and a hand shoot out and shut the door. Anna didn't turn around. She trembled, afraid to see the look on his face, afraid to know by looking into his eyes that he didn't want her after all. Just like everyone else. But she could feel the warmth, the comforting bulk of his body pressing into hers as his other hand came to rest on the other side of her head, effectively trapping her there.

"Turn around," he whispered into her ear, his breath making her shiver slightly. His nearness was almost intoxicating to her. She shook her head.

"Turn around," he said a little more insistently, one hand moving to her shoulder and applying slight pressure to it.

Finally she allowed him to turn her around to face him, back against the front door of the apartment, shaking a little, hanging her head so that he couldn't see the look in her eyes.

She didn't want him to look in her eyes and see how much she liked him, how much she wanted to be with him. She didn't want him to know how just being near him was almost driving her insane. She didn't want to know that he didn't feel the same way about her.

Adam gently smoothed her hair out of her face and placed one hand on her cheek, the other still resting behind her on the door. He gently tipped her face up, forcing her to look him in the eye. Using his other hand as well, he wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs and smiled.

"Anna," he said, "Look at me."

There was an almost commanding sound to his voice and Anna obeyed, seeing for the first time the concern, the adoration, the passion in his eyes.

"You just surprised me," he whispered, before he bent his head and his lips met hers, first gently, but soon demandingly.

And Anna had all the answers she needed, as she willingly submitted to the intensity of his kiss.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

At first Don thought it was the mutterings and writhing around he had come to associate with sharing a bed with his wife that had woken him up.

Then he realized it was the vibration of his cell phone that had. Glancing at the alarm clock by his bed, he groaned when he realized it was barely seven am – and it was his day off.

Sam muttered a little and shoved herself back into his front, causing a part of his anatomy to wake up some more too. Swearing slightly, Don reached for the nightstand and the offending item; cursing some more as he snapped open his cell phone and realized who was calling him so early.

"Hey Dad," he said, managing not to say all the other things he was thinking about such a rude awakening.

"Son," Senior acknowledged, "I don't suppose you've heard from your sister have you?"

"No," said Don, leaning back against the pillows as Sam buried herself further under the blankets, "I take it you mean Anna right?"

"Yeah," said his father, "She went out on a date with that brother-in-law of yours last night. Jimmy just called me to say she never came home last night."

Don sighed heavily.

"Dad," he said, "She _is_ over thirty for fuck's sake, I think she's big enough and ugly enough to take care of herself. Did you try her cell?"

"We both did," the older man replied, "She hasn't picked up once. Can you call Ross? Check she's OK?"

Don sighed.

"Sure Dad," he said wearily, "Give my love to Mom."

As he ended the call, he could have sworn he heard the old man snickering on the other end of the line.

Mind you, he thought, as Sam turned to him drowsily and her hand started to move in circles on his lower abdomen, phone calls could always wait.

After all, it _was_ kinda early.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

Adam awoke with this enormous sense of well-being as the sunlight streamed through the window into his extremely untidy bedroom. It took him a second to focus on the bottom of the bed frame, near his feet, but he spotted something red and gauzy dangling from it and slowly grinned.

The sheets were tangled around his waist, one arm behind his head under the pillow. The other was draped across the other pillow and Anna was currently using it for one herself. She murmured in her sleep, getting closer to him, one of her arms thrown across his stomach.

He let the hand near her head finger through the strands of silky black hair for a moment, smiling, before he kissed her on the forehead. She smiled and slowly opened her eyes, to look at him.

"Morning," she said softly. He grinned at her, leaned towards her and kissed her on the mouth.

"Good morning yourself," he replied, resting his head back against the pillows, looking at the ceiling. He felt her hand start to move in circles around his navel, gently teasing the nerve endings and making the whole area sensitive. Glancing at her, he noticed she was watching him with a playful look in her eyes. He stroked her hair, smiling at her and was just leaning over when his cell phone started to ring.

Swearing, Adam turned and reached for his jeans, lying on the floor by the bed where they had been hurriedly discarded by one of them at some point during the night. Fumbling, he found the phone in his back pocket, groaning as he realized his brother-in-law was calling. Looking back at Anna, a slight look of panic in his eyes, he ran his hand through his tousled hair, a habit of his when he was nervous.

"Look's like the game's up," he said, pressing the phone to receive the call, "Uh hey Don, what's up?"

Anna rolled onto her back, folding her arms under her head, listening to Adam talking to Don, explaining, yes, Anna was here, no he didn't know why her cell was switched off and also saying uh, he was pretty sure he, Don, didn't want to know where Anna was right now. Anna turned her head, looked at Adam and realized he was out of his depth on this one. She reached out her hand for the phone, gesturing when Adam didn't give it up instantly. There was a slight look of panic in Adam's eyes.

"Yo Bro," she said into the phone, wincing and holding it a little away from her head as Don shouted down the phone.

"Firstly, Donald," said Anna, "As you so rightly know, I am over thirty and if I want to spend the night at my boyfriend's place, I can."

She held the phone father away for the next tirade.

"Don," she said, when she could get a word in edgeways, "Donald, can I speak for a minute?"

Anna sighed as another load of bad language came down the phone.

"Dad and Uncle Jimmy were winding you up and I'll deal with them," she said, "Now I am in bed with Adam and I have no intentions of getting up…. No, Don, I think it was more me leading him astr….Don…Fuck off."

Anna winced again at the next little speech her brother gave.

"Fuck off and die," she said finally, ending the call and throwing the cell onto a pile of clothes on her side of the bed.

"They're going to kill me," said Adam slowly.

"You think too much," said Anna, holding her arms open to him.

"It's going to be slow and painful and then Don and Danny are going to help your father and uncle hide the body," he said, slowly moving across the bed towards her.

A smile tugged at Anna's lips.

"Adam," she said, "Can you please get back to what you were doing and just shut the fuck up?"

Adam smiled as he leaned over her.

"Oh yeah," he said, "Now where were we…?"

And he kissed her.

**CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY CSI:NY**

**OK, so I hope this was OK and not too OOC! Please R'n'R and let me know what you think!**

**Thanks to everyone for reviewing!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10**** – These are a few of my favorite things…..**

**Thanks to all for following the story - sorry for the delay of three weeks or so while RL has been getting in the way! I've also been moderating the forum (kids stay AWAY from the mint choc chip icecream and the Oreos please!) and also co-writing with BEG 75, which was a joy and a privilege. I have also been on nights. Again. So thanks for all your patience - this is dedicated to each and every one of you following the story. I am going to take it down the garden path quite soon, as in jump it around from year to year a lot, but I hope you'll bear with me.**

**Disclaimer: CBS own the original characters; I own Anna Malloy and all the Malloys. Tinks owns Slippers the cat (not appearing in this chapter), Sam Ross/Flack, All the other Flacks.**

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There were few things in life that made Adam Ross uncomfortable. Pissing off his boss, Mac Taylor was one, followed closely by annoying Stella Bonasera. So these were two things he tried very hard not to do on a daily basis. Irritating Sammie was another, seeing as his sister had no compunction at all about hitting him hard. Usually where it hurt. And although he had to admit he had a constantly growing respect and brotherly affection for his brother-in-law, getting on Don Flack's wrong side was not on Adam's to-do list on any normal day.

How he felt right now? Like he'd been caught by his teacher doing the wrong thing and had been sent to the Principal's office.

Fate had found him and Anna at the Flack family residence, on a Sunday, as was becoming a regular habit for all the family, bar Mel and Chris, although to be fair, Chris had come along once or twice in the months that Anna has been part of the family and grudgingly admitted his new sister was "alright". But this? This was pure hell. Anna and he were on the small two-seater sofa in the window, while Don was glaring at them from an armchair and Don Sr and Jimmy were sitting on the larger sofa that backed onto the dining area.

The look on Don's face could have frozen water into ice. Hell, it could have frozen nitrogen. Don Sr just kept giving meaningful glances at his service pistol, now framed and box-mounted above the fireplace. And Jimmy? Well Jimmy Malloy just kept looking at him thoughtfully. In the time Adam had known the Flacks, he'd heard some things about Jimmy's past, involving knee-caps. And not in a good way. Adam gulped and gripped Anna's hand a little tighter. She turned to look at him and gave him a small, encouraging smile.

Adam could not even focus on the delicious smells coming from the kitchen, where Pat, Mary Malloy and Sam currently were. The two older women were cooking and Sam was chatting. At least that's what Adam _hoped_ she was doing. His sister was not known for her culinary skills.

"So," Don Sr said, as Jimmy cleared his throat and glared at the duo meaningfully.

"So what?" replied Anna, a little cheekily.

"You spent the night at his place then," said her father, looking sharply at Adam, who could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Anna rolled her eyes.

"It _is _the twenty-first century you know," she said, "I _am_ over thirty. And more than one night actually." she popped a mini pretzel into her mouth and chewed.

"We don't approve," said Jimmy finally. Adam gaped at his girlfriend's uncle.

"I'm sorry?" said Anna, incredulously, "Who died and made you the relationship police?"

"We're just all concerned about you Anna," said her father, trying a new tactic, "I mean you're my little girl and all..."

He quickly realised this was the wrong turn to take.

"So you're going all medieval on my ass are you?" she said, huffing, crossing her arms and throwing herself back on the couch.

Adam didn't know what to do. Fortunately, Patricia, bearing a large dish of mashed potatoes emerged form the kitchen area of the room.

"Lunch you lot," she announced.

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The mood over the table did not improve over the course of the meal. Sam was upset about something else that the two older women had been trying to calm her over. Anna didn't know what it was about, but apparently it had something to do with a colleague of Don's who wasn't taking no for an answer. Anna and Don had been fighting the entire time, throwing snide remarks back and forth across the table. Adam just tried to keep his head down and focus on his food, without looking at anyone.

It was not a fun time.

Finally, Don came out with something sarcastic about Anna's taste in things generally, which got him a smack upside his head from his wife and a thrown piece of cutlery from Anna. Don ducked just in time. Don Sr tried laying down the law, but with two grown up toddlers both screaming for "Mom", it was Patricia who settled things finally.

"Anna," she said, "Please behave like the grown adult you are at the table and keep your cutlery to yourself."

She spooned some more potatoes and Mary ladled some more gravy onto Jimmy's plate before handing it to him.

"Donald," Pat said, "Your brother-in-law is a fine young man and _all_ of you should let them about their own business. They are both old enough to know what they're doing."

"Thanks Mom," said Anna, smiling triumphantly at the men of the household. Adam squeezed her hand.

"Yes," finished Pat, "If she wants to fornicate with him under his roof, I say let her alone."

She finished serving the family their second helpings as a deathly hush came over the assembled group. Right before Sam started laughing out loud, closely followed by the rest of the family.

The meal went a whole lot better after that.

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Over Irish coffee after the meal, Jimmy took Anna aside.

"I'm just worried about you girlie," he said, "After all, you're my responsibility now your ma is gone."

Anna snorted at that and her eyes flashed.

"I'm no-one's responsibility Uncle Jimmy," she said, "And I haven't been since Mum decided she loved the bottle more than her own daughter. And you know that."

Jimmy sighed.

"Would it make any difference to you if I said not under my roof?" he said, a little irritated by the way Anna was pushing all his buttons.

"Fine," she said, "I won't then, not that I have."

She stomped over to Adam, who was sat between Pat and Mary watching some black-and-white film on the TV, pulled him upright and half threw, half-pushed his bag into his arms.

"I'll just move out then."

The room went quiet.

"Jimmy?" asked Mary, "What did you say now?"

"Nothing," snarled the red-headed old man, "She's just being bloody difficult as always."

But Anna and Adam were already out of the door and Pat had her head in her hands.

"When will you two morons learn to leave her alone?" asked Mary, really quite annoyed, "Was Don Sr like that with his other children?" she asked Pat.

"Oh much worse," confirmed Pat.

"I was not!" argued Don Sr, from his armchair by the gas fire. Don just snorted in reply.

"Dad," he said, "You have no idea."

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Adam was in shock as Anna directed him back to Malloy's. He had a bad feeling about what had just went down at the Flacks.

"Anna?" he asked. Silence. He tried again.

"Anna?"

"What!" she barked back, suddenly realizing she was addressing Adam and not her extended family. She laid a hand on his arm.

"Sorry," she said, a little sheepishly.

"What just happened there?" he asked.

"Jimmy's been on my back about sleeping with you," she said, "Apparently seeing as I live under his roof and work for him and he is in loco parentis - his words not mine - he thinks he has the right to interfere in my life."

She closed her eyes and laid her head back against the head rest.

"He's doing my head in geek, I have to get out of there."

"So where are you moving to?" he asked, cursing himself as the words came out of his mouth. As if he didn't know. This was confirmed by Anna giving him a look that clearly stated she thought he was challenged.

"Where any normal, thirty year old would go when she announced she was moving out," she said, "I am moving in with you!" and promptly shot him a beaming smile.

Adam just gulped.

"When?" he asked, a little weakly.

"No time like the present," she said firmly.

_Oh god,_ thought Adam. There was a good reason he had not gone down the road of co-habitation up until now.

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All Adam could do was watch as Anna grabbed her possessions and stuff them into her suitcase and backpack. She hadn't brought much with her from Ireland. Everything else fitted in a few boxes.

When Adam had commented on the fact that she hardly owned anything, she pointed out that she didn't want anything to remind her of her hellish childhood and she had sold her grandparents' house and furniture as soon as she could. A clean slate she called it.

Adam was also a little perturbed by the fact that she was actually a pretty tidy person too, like her brother, whereas he, on the other hand, was like Sammie and while she was mostly tidy, he wasn't. He considered there were better things to do with his time. Like play on his Wii.

It took a short half hour to pack and load everything into Adam's car and for Anna to write a note for her uncle, advising him of where she was.

Then they were off.

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It didn't take long for Adam to make space in his closet for Anna's things, or for her to unpack and he left her to it. But he was feeling extremely...threatened. Yeah, much though he really, really liked Anna, this was kind of happening awfully fast.

It wasn't that he didn't want her there. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He liked waking up beside her, making her breakfast and watching her doodle away in her notebooks; little ideas for comic books and what not. It was just sharing your space on a permanent basis meant changing your space on a permanent basis and really letting someone in.

And while Anna had gotten closer to him than any other woman ever had - and in a surprisingly short space of time - he wasn't sure if he was ready for it. Or able to cope.

Everything had a place in his apartment and there was a space for everything. There was a good reason for it too. Control.

It didn't matter if he didn't know exactly where everything was, the point was he knew it was somewhere. He knew where his mugs were in his cupboards and what not. He knew where the coffee grounds were kept. He knew he could reach out, his eyes stinging with shampoo and lay his hand on the shower gel without looking. Because it would be in its place. And that helped Adam stay in control.

In the Lab, he was the same; no-one messed with Adam's lab or his work stations. It was an unwritten rule amongst the staff and CSIs that Adam was the one in charge and things needed to go where he had put them. For the most part, it was entirely logical, the way he arranged things, so he got away with it, even with Mac. The only person he would tolerate messing with this arrangement and anally sparten organisation of things was Sam. And she didn't do it often. Because she knew why.

Realizing Anna was not, in fact, completely rearranging the apartment caused him to exhale the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. She was humming happily, changing the sheets right now. And that was OK.

He smiled at her as she walked back into the living area, beaming a smile at him and bearing Marvin.

"Where should he live?" she asked, waving the figure still in its packaging. Adam took the figure from her and went to the display shelves, where he had a whole host of smaller figures from Star Wars and some original Transformers neatly arranged. He made a space at the back and placed Marvin there.

"How about here?" he asked. Anna walked up to him and placed her arms around his waist. She rested her head on his shoulder and looked. His hands covered hers.

"I think that's perfect," she said, "He looks like he was always meant to be there. Adam turned his head and kissed her on the tip of her nose. She smiled.

"Wanna go out and grab some dinner?" he asked.

"Absolutely," she said, "I'm starving."

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Unfortunately, as Adam realized less than 24 hours later, his relief was short lived.

He fiddled with the key in the lock, letting himself into the one bed apartment in downtown Manhattan and pretty quickly realized that things were different. He felt his chest tighten in panic.

The place was clean and tidy. The rugs on the hardwood floor finally making an appearance for the first time since Sam had left. All the clutter was tidied away. He feel his anxiety rising.

He made for the kitchen area and went to find a glass for some water, which he hoped would calm him down and stop his heart from racing, as it was now starting to do. He opened the usual cupboard.

No glasses.

He opened another and another. He couldn't find them. He felt his breathing pattern change and his starting to hyperventilate. He pressed his forehead against the refrigerator and closed his eyes, feeling his shirt get damp with the sweat that was pouring off them.

TV, he thought, he could watch some TV or play some Wii or something. That would calm him down.

Except he couldn't find the remote. Or the Wii or the guitar attachment for that matter and the tide of panic rose again. He lurched to his feet, his eyes darting around the apartment, not really seeing anything, knocking over a side table he hadn't seen before in his rush to stand up. Something smashed. He didn't know what and the noise brought Anna from the bedroom, wrapping a towel around herself, her hair wet.

"Hey!" she started, before seeing Adam clearly in a state, "Adam, hon, are you OK?"

He didn't answer her, he just ran his hands through his hair, shaking all the while, totally panicked. Anna could tell from the expression of sheer panic and terror on his face that he was not OK. She rushed over to him and laid her hand on his arm, desperately worried about the state he was winding himself up into.

"Don't touch me!" he yelled and backed away from her, stumbling a little as he staggered in the direction of the bathroom and turned on the faucet over the sink. The noise soothed him a little. Till he took a look around the bathroom and noticed that, that too, had been rearranged and the panic that had begun to ebb away rushed back in an overwhelming tidal wave that threatened to take him over. That was it. Adam snapped. He had to regain control.

Anna stormed into the bathroom to find Adam, to demand an explanation. Only to stop dead in her tracks as she watched Adam scrubbing his hands and arms raw with the nail brush, the water on it's hottest setting.

"Gotta get clean, gotta get clean," Adam was saying over and over, all the while he scrubbed at himself.

Anna was speechless, truly appalled at what she was witnessing. And her guilt rose. This was all her fault.

"Adam," she said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder, wincing as he flinched away from her at first. She reached out and turned off the faucet. She covered his hands with her own and forced him to turn and face her.

He was still wide eyed with panic, but the look was less intense and fading by the second. But his hands were raw. He looked at her and then at his hands and he started to shake.

"Oh my," he whispered, "Oh my. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Anna pushed him backwards till he half stumbled into sitting on the toilet, the lid of which was down and she crouched down in front of him as much as the towel would let her.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, "I didn't realize, I didn't think..."

Adam reached out one shaking hand and touched her cheek gently. He gave her a tiny smile, his breathing slowly coming back under control at the sight of her worried face searching his.

"It's not your fault," he said, "I should have told you that...that I get this way."

"No," said Anna firmly, "This is _my_ fault. I forced myself on you, into your space, I rearranged everything and went shopping at Target and stuff. I should have asked first. I should have done it with you."

Adam took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. Then he opened them to see the concerned hazel ones looking up at him, before she stood and took him into an odd hug, which had his head pressed into her stomach and his arms around her waist. She stroked his spiky, messy hair.

"Can I have a guided tour of my apartment?" Adam said, his voice muffled by the towel.

Anna heaved a sigh of relief. The episode had passed.

And Adam had to admit. The place looked pretty damn good now she had tidied it up. There was a work station for him and all his - their - gaming stuff was neatly stacked in a wicker basket arrangement. And the glasses and mugs, as he found out a few minutes later, were now in fact in an entirely logical place, above the kettle, in the same cupboard as the tea bags and coffee grounds.

That and the fact Anna spent most of the evening making it up to him in the best way possible.

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Anna and Adam stood outside the Flacks' apartment. A grinning Danny Messer opened the door.

"Gruesome twosome," he greeted them, giving Anna a hug, "How're you coping with the Geek, Ireland?"

"Better than I would with you, Staten Island," she retorted, shrugging out of her jacket and EMU boots, hanging the garment on the rack by the front door, before taking Adam's and doing the same. As he headed towards the living room, she cleared her throat. Adam guiltily snuck back and took off his trainers, neatly pairing them by her boots. Danny laughed.

"Damn, she's got you whipped!" he said, pushing his glasses back onto his nose. Anna smacked him between his shoulder blades.

"Unlike you," she said, "He has better sense than to mess with a Flack. I am trying to housetrain him before the baby arrives."

"Yeah, but shoes off? Like a kid?" asked Danny, perplexed.

"The streets of New York are not paved with gold," said Sam, waddling from the kitchen to hug her sister-in-law, "They are covered with all manner of foul germs, viruses, bacteria and doggie doo that I do not want on my floors now I got them re-sealed," with a pointed look at Danny's Italian loafers. Muttering under his breath, he shrugged them off.

"How in hell does the Crimestopper put up with you?" he asked.

"Because she's got him whipped," said a cheerful voice, as Lindsay came from the kitchen to join them.

Adam has disappeared into the lounge in search of Don, who was watching the highlights of the Knicks game. Shaking his head, Danny went to join the men and the women linked arms with Anna and dragged her into the kitchen.

Sam perused the take-out menus with a frown.

"Do you think they'll add marshmallows and anchovies to the Hawaiian pizza?" she asked. Anna made a gagging sound.

"This is New York," replied Lindsay, "Of course they will. But onto more important matters. How are you guys dealing with that crazy woman and her kid."

Anna decided to read the menus and ignore what Sam was saying. She missed part of it, while concentrating on the Thai take-out place they all frequented, but she caught the next part.

"I mean she's a sweet kid and all," said Sam, waving her hands in the air, "And Don always tries to do his best for people he knows, you know, and he has a big soft spot for kids, but she's not his and no amount of her mother trying to keep him around is going to change that." She sighed.

"Have you spoken to Don about this?" asked Lindsay.

"Yes and we both spoke to her mother, but it's not doing any good!" Sam waved her hands around again. "It's like she's pissed at me for having Don's baby. That now she won't have Don to play Daddy to her dysfunctional little family whenever she snaps her fingers."

She groaned. Then she beamed a little smile and sat upright again.

"But less about me and my drama," she said, "Linds wants to know all the details," she said to Anna.

Anna choked on the nut she was swallowing.

"Details?" she asked.

"Preferably juicy," said Linds.

"Please and thank you," added Sam.

"You are not normal," said Anna, "Wanting to know about your little brother's sex life."

"Oh dear," said Lindsay, "Should I get Danny to take Adam aside? Teach him everything he knows? Would that help?"

Sam choked on a mouthful of her drink before she started laughing.

"What's going on in there?" shouted Danny, from the living area, separated from the kitchen by the breakfast counter.

"Nothing your innocent ears need to hear Messer," Sam shouted back.

"They're comparing notes on us," said Danny, frantically moving his hands around on his PS3 controller, trying to get past both Flack and Adam on the racetrack.

Don glared at Adam, who tried to focus on the game.

"Don't glare at my brother," called Sam, "I know that look. Like he defiled the Virgin Mary. Or I will tell him all about how your dirty, perverted mind corrupted his sister."

"Yeah," piped up Anna, "Or I'll get Adam to give you some pointers little brother, just in case you need them!"

The women giggled again. Adam tried not to look at Flack and Danny started laughing again.

"What is it about them and sex?" asked Adam, managing to maintain his lead, "Why do women feel the need to talk about all the details when they're together? I don't get it."

Flack smirked and shot a look in his direction, while taking over Adam's car on the screen.

"Because they're women," he said finally, "And it's not like we don't, I mean Sammie..."

"Gonna tell about the alleyway your son was conceived in?" asked Danny, with a grin.

"What about the pool table Messer?" shot back Flack.

"Please," said Adam, clapping one hand over his eyes, "How many times do we have to have the discussion about me NOT wanting to know the details of you and my sister's sex life?"

"Probably another hundred times or so at least," said Don frankly.

"Why can't you people have sex in a bedroom, like normal people," asked Adam, trying desperately to focus on the game at hand.

"What fun would that be?" asked Flack, with an evil grin on his face, "In fact Ross, right where you're sitting? On the couch? I think your sister left some biological trace right there on that cushion. Messer'll lend you his UV torch if you want to check, right Danno?"

But Adam had thrown the game controller onto the floor and leapt off the couch, losing his balance and landing on his ass on the floor, much to Danny's amusement, the tears pouring from his eyes in sheer amusement as he took off his glasses ton wipe his eyes.

"Never a dull moment with the Flacks and Rosses," he said, wiping away.

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"You didn't answer the question," Lindsay persisted, "Or take me up on my offer of Danny."

"Danny what?" the namesake called.

"Never you mind!" answered Lindsay.

"It's OK Danny," shouted Sam, "She's just pimping your services out!"

His reply was unintelligible. Anna merely smiled.

"Thank you kindly," she said to Lindsay, "But I won't be needing Danny to show Adam the, err, ropes. He is uh, more than satisfactory in that department thank you. I am more than capable of giving him pointers if he's going wrong. Which he isn't."

Sam and Lindsay let out a cackle of laughter. Then Sam leaned on one hand and blinked her eyelashes looking at her sister-in-law.

"So tell me," she asked, "Cause I've been trying to get Don to return the piercing favor, does having his you know what pierced make things better in the sex department?"

Lindsay gasped, her mouth open in a perfect O.

"The Geek has his....No! I don't believe it!" she said in disbelief.

"My brother had a Prince Albert done I will have you know," said Sam to her best friend, "And I have been trying to convince Don to go for the same thing but he keeps saying hell no. So," she turned back to Anna, "Is it true?"

"You're definitely sick and weird to want to know," said Anna, sipping her drink, "I will neither confirm nor deny what you want to know. I will only say, it makes things....interesting."

And she blushed a little, with a small smile toying at her lips.

"I knew it!" said Sam triumphantly, "I am so telling Don he has to return the favor."

"What favor?" asked Anna confused.

To which Sam stuck out her tongue and revealed her tongue piercing, with a wink.

"That's not all he has pierced," said Anna in reply to that, grinning in reply.

Lindsay couldn't hold back the laughter.

"What in God's name are you talking about now?" called Flack, a little irritated with the interruptions the wild cackling from the women in the kitchen were causing.

"Metalwork!" they called back in unison, dissolving into laughter again.

Danny and Flack looked confused. Adam just blushed.

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**A huge thanks and big hugs to Tinks for helping me with this chapter - luv ya loads girly!**

**Please stop by and let me know what you think!**


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